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lesservillain · 3 months

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alpha!steve harrington x omega!reader

cw: omegaverse dynamics, knotting, bonding/marking, breeding kink, unprotected piv, semi public, mutual pining

wc:~5.7k

Music plays at a low hum from the small radio at your desk. The only station that comes in clear has been taken over by Christmas music since Thanksgiving break. Not even Wham!’’s Last Christmas was giving the same sense of relief after hearing it every day for almost a month now.

Despite the winter wonderland outside, you still seek out the coolness of your water bottle against your skin, the chill helping to ease the flush that’s been making you sweat like it was mid July in Texas. You’d even cracked the window behind your desk in hopes that the fallen snow would help with your elevated body temperature. But you knew that all of your efforts were for nothing. That no matter how cold you made it, there was really only one thing that would actually be able to ease the discomfort that you felt spreading under your skin; the burden of being an omega in this world.

Ever since you split with your ex this past spring you’ve been having to deal with your heats on your own. It's not impossible for an omega to go through heats without an alpha to ease the pain, but when you go cold turkey after years of having someone there to satisfy the overwhelming biological need to mate, it can take a huge toll on any omega.

Science has made leaps and bounds over the last 20 years to improve suppressants for both alphas and omegas. They’re not perfect by any means, but they’re better than dealing with the intense urges that you feel when that time of the month comes.

The current suppressants you're taking are…experimental. Mixed with a birth control that’s supposed to be able to stop even the swimmers of an alpha in rut from reaching an egg of an omega they’ve marked. They were suggested by your doctor as a preventative, since omegas after losing their long alpha tend to subconsciously scent to seek out a replacement.

And they worked really well the first few months, not having a heat for nearly half a year. But the added stress of moving to a new town on your own and starting a new job where you were constantly playing catch up after inheriting a mess from the school’s previous nurse, your heat came back full swing within the first month of the school year. The dizziness, increased appetite, a dull ache in your lower back, and hot flashes put you out for three days before you could get a suppressant strong enough to make you functional again.

Now you’re having your winter heat, which, so far, has been much tamer by comparison thanks to the increased dose of your medication. But the combination of your heat with the influx of students seeing you due to peak flu and strep season, your body has been practically screaming at you by the end of each day this week to go home and relax.

The sudden overzealous opening of your office door takes your attention off your sweltering body. The all too familiar voice of Mr. Harrington calls out “Helloooo, nurse!” as he occupies the space in the doorway.

Steve Harrington was one of the school’s sophomore history teachers, as well as the football and basketball coach and the leader of the Student Achievement program. All of the staff, and probably some of the students, swoon over him at any given moment, his presence never missed due to the air that surrounds him. Unfortunately you’re not immune to his charms either. In fact, the natural attraction between the two of you was palpable at times, regardless of how much you try to ignore it.

Steve could feel it, too. And maybe it was the way his alpha brain was wired, but his flirty personality is jacked up to 10 whenever you’re around. It’s not on purpose, at least not in a conscious way. His amazing hair, the way his clothes hugged his toned body, and his almost unnaturally handsome face made him the poster child for the perfect alpha partner.

Well, perfect except for the fact that he’s the clumsiest man you’ve ever met in your life, leaving your office at least once a week with a Strawberry Shortcake bandaid after giving himself a paper cut or an ice pack on his head when a ball hits him in the face.

Despite his accident-prone nature, Steve is a highly desired, single alpha in his prime. And with you being the only unclaimed adult omega in the building, it’s put a huge target on your back for your jealous coworkers who think they have a shot with him. To remedy this, you’ve maintained a firm level of professionalism and platonic friendliness at all times with him, despite his flirty personality testing your willpower.

His intoxicating scent invades your senses sending a wave of warmth to wash over you before you can even give him a quick glance. You pull at the collar of your blouse willing the air to cool down your shirt. “You feeling okay there, nurse? You look a little flushed. Or are you just that happy to see me?”

“Mr.Harrington,” you say flatly, following with teasing sarcasm as you continue looking over your paperwork, “I was starting to worry you weren’t going to see me this week. Thought you’d finally broken your streak of bad luck.” He lets out an airy chuckle that makes the sides of your lips threaten to curl.

“Oh, honey, you know I can’t stay away from you.” He means it. He would fake appendicitis if it gave him a greater chance to be doted on by you. To get closer to you. “I would have been in here sooner if I hadn’t been glued to my desk all week getting grades in before break,” he says, voicing his grievances that were the result of his own negligence.

“I see,” you hum, continuing with the sarcastic tone. “I guess I won’t have to replenish my box of bandaids just yet.”

“Weelll,” he draws out, “All that sitting time must have built up my bad luck, because, uh, I think this one may need more than just a bandaid.”

When you finally lift your eyes from your desk, they almost bulge out of their sockets at the sight of him. Where you initially thought his arms were just crossed, you see his right hand is actually covering his left bicep, blood staining down the sleeve of his light and navy blue striped dress shirt. The lack of urgency in his tone had you thinking nothing was wrong, but of course Steve Harrington would find the time to flirt with you while he’s bleeding.

Tossing your water bottle on the desk and jumping up from your seat, you practically fly across the room to assess the damage, pulling his hand away to find a tear in the sleeve and blood spread messily on his skin underneath.

“Oh my goodness, what happened?” You ask with concern, pulling him into the office by the hand and leading him to a cot, shutting the door behind you.

“Mrs.Harmon asked if I could stay and help set up stuff around the auditorium for the choir performance tonight,” he explained as you pulled at the material of his sleeve, trying and failing and get a better look at the wound, “and I accidentally knocked a shelf off the wall while trying to get the decorations out. I moved fast enough that it didn’t crush me, but it did knick me a little.”

“A little! Mr.Harrington—” you start with a stern tone, preparing your normal lecture to him about being safe.

“Steve,” he corrects with a smug grin, insisting that you call him by his first name since you’ve met.

“Mr.Harrington,” you repeat like a warning, trying to remain professional when he’s so close to you. It’s hard when he’s staring at your face with those big hazel eyes as he watches your face scrunch in frustration while you fiddle with his shirt. A shirt that’s straining to stay together around his large bicep, leaving no give for you to get a better look at his wound.

Losing your will to argue with him, your hands rest to your hips with a sigh. “Can you, just, slip your arm out of the sleeve, please?”

“Of course,” he says with faux seriousness as you can see his all too satisfied smile, rolling your eyes at him.

Turning on your heel, you walk a few feet to grab the things from the supply cabinet to treat his wound. Your back is turned to him as you fill your arms with gauze, tape, cotton balls, and anything else you may need for a cut that large.

“You know, you’re probably the clumsiest alpha I’ve ever met,” you tease as you turn to face him again, “Sometimes I think you get hurt on purpose just to see m—“

The rest of your remark dies on your tongue as your mouth goes dry. Taking liberties with your request, you watch Mr.Harrington completely remove his shirt, dropping it on the cot behind him and facing you once more. The white under tank he’s wearing leaves little to the imagination as it hugs his broad chest tightly, thinning the material and making it almost see through. His skin still has the last lingering tint of the tan he was sporting on the first day of school, and different sized freckles and moles decorate his body like constellations in the sky. You’ve never seen so much of him all at once, head feeling fuzzy as you drink him in.

“I think you might be drooling a bit there, Ms. Nurse,” he says pointing to the corner of his own mouth to further his teasing. But you can barely hear him, the words muffled as your ears start to ring and your vision tilts as if you’d been drinking. The boil you’d been dealing with all day felt like a slight shimmer as your fever suddenly spikes, your body on fire as the scent coming from his newly exposed skin has you reeling.

The supplies you’re holding dropped to the floor, freeing your hands to grasp at the counter behind you. Steve rushes to your side, wrapping an arm around you and easing you to the ground. He barely makes it without dropping to his knees himself, the smell of your pheromones hitting him like a brick.

“H-hey, what do you need,” you hear him ask, but you can hardly register the words as his scent in close proximity only spurs your heat on more. Even with your clothes covering your skin, the touch of his hand on your waist and the one he’s rested on your knee make you crave more of him in a carnal way, the urgent need to close the gap between the two of you has your body shifting until you’re on your knees and crawling towards him.

His hands hover in the air, slightly trembling as you lean into him. He falls back on his ass as you get closer until you’re practically laying on him, rubbing against him with your face like a cat. “I need you, Steve,” you purr. He takes a sharp breath in through gritted teeth as your hand drifts lower, lower, until your fingers land on the very prominent bulge straining against his deep blue slacks. “Shit,” his head snaps back at the contact, before dropping back down to look at you with hungry eyes.

“What happened to keeping it professional?” He tries to joke, unsure if this is all just a test from the universe to see how he would react to having his nightly fantasies come true. And while Steve may be resilient in many ways, he wasn’t sure if he could hold back with the way you’re looking up at him through your lashes as if he’d hung the moon and the stars. The scent of his musk permeates the room as he gives into your needs, his desires, letting the primal urges he’s been pushing down since the day he met you front in his mind.

If you were in a different state of mind you probably would have laughed at his comment. But the intense ache that bloomed between your legs as all your senses start to leave your body has you whimpering against his chest.

Strong arms scoop you up swiftly, tossing you down on the cot and pulling the privacy curtain behind him. In the split second he was away from you, you managed to grab his discarded shirt and pull it to your nose, inhaling his lingering scent. It was like a drug that you couldn’t get enough of, your thighs rubbing together and hips moving against air as your body seeks out any kind of relief for the ache.

Suddenly, the shirt is torn from your grasp roughly. You cry out, hands reaching out aimlessly before they’re being grasped tightly around the wrists and pinned to the bed. The cot dips as a weight wedges its way between your legs, pressing against your core in a way that has you instantly bucking against it with reckless abandon, your clouded mind only thinking about satisfying the throb in your core.

“God, look at the mess you’re making on my thigh already,” Steve says with a low growl, watching you use him in a pathetic attempt to relieve yourself. The grit in his voice hits every nerve in your body on its way from your ear drums to your cunt.

“You smell so fucking sweet,” he groans as he brings your wrist to his nose and inhales, “Like vanilla or honey, o-or something better,” he stammers. He leans over you, hot tongue licking a thick stripe from your collar bone to behind your ear, lightly biting the lobe and pulling, goosebumps rising on your skin. His hair is just as soft as you imagined it would be as it tickles your cheek, a sharp contrast to the way his teeth bite at your neck, his tongue soothing over the skin.

You press your cheek into him, whining his name right into his ear, practically begging him to put you out of your misery. He releases one of your hands to grab your face, lips pursing together, making you look him in the eyes. His pupils fully blown out and close enough that you can see your own fucked out reflection in them.

“Listen to me,” he says, swallowing, eyes flickering between your eyes and your lips. “I’ve been wanting to do this for five fucking months. Five long months of fucking my fist to the thought of getting you under me just like this, making you a mess and having you beg for me.” He takes a deep breath through his nose, nostrils flaring as the last bit of his resolve begins to waver. “So if we do this, you’re mine from now on, got it? No more of this back and forth, pretending you don’t want me as much as I want you bullshit. Once I start…I’m not going to be able to stop. Do you understand?”

There’s no hesitation with how quickly you try to nod your head against his grip. The heat coming off of your cheeks warms the tips of his fingers. “Nuh-uh,” he tuts, giving you a little shake, “Need to hear it. Tell me you want this.”

“Want you, Steve. Need you. Need your cock, please, please please.”

He curses under his breath before his lips crash into yours. The kiss is hot and heavy right off the bat as teeth clash and tongues dance together in desperation. Your free hand finds its way into his perfect hair, pulling slightly at the nape, eliciting a moan from him that you catch as it leaves his lips.

Steve pulls away from you with a wild look in his eyes. Both of his strong hands release their hold on you so that he could rip open the front of your blouse, sending buttons flying and hitting the floor with a clatter. His mouth is back on you, nipping and biting the skin while his hands pull your tits free from the cups of your bra.

Mouth moving at lightning speed, he hungrily takes one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and tonguing the bud while needing at your other breast with his hand. His eyes are glassy when they look up at you, half lidded and unfocused, drool dribbles down your breast from his mouth.

Everything next happens so quickly you can barely register it. Steve pulls away from you completely, standing up fully to rip your pants down your legs. Once he throws them to the floor, he’s making quick movements to undo his own pants, his right thigh drenched from the slick that had soaked through while grinding against him.

His cock is so hard that the pressure against the crotch of his pants has the zipper undoing itself once he frees the button. Wasting no time, he shucks down his slacks and boxers in one go, his large cock and heavy balls now on full display for you, the sight making your eyes widen in surprise—and maybe fear?

Alphas are known to be bigger than even a well endowed beta, and omegas are built to handle the size of an alpha’s better than a beta can, but the size of the Steve’s cock less than a foot from your face has you mesmerized at the sheer size of it. But while your mind may be in shock, your pussy has a mind of its own, slick dripping in anticipation for the stretch you’d be receiving. Even in his large hands it looked massive, bigger than any alpha you’d been with before.

You sit up in the bed slightly, reaching out to take him in your hand, your fingers barely able to wrap around him as you stroke the angry red tip. He curses under his breath as you let your hand roll over the tip, feeling the veins against the skin of your palm with each stroke.

A little bead of precum bubbles at the tip and something in your mind snaps. Your mouth is on him in an instant, any sense you may have had left is completely gone out the window when that salty taste hits your tongue.

“Fuck, look at you,” he cooes, followed by a guttural moan at the sight of you trying to take as much of him in your mouth as you can. “Such a good girl. Trying your best to take me in that pretty little mouth of yours, huh?” His words egg you as you continue to suckle at his tip, lapping up any of his spend that leaks out as you keep pumping at his shaft.

You want to keep going, want to be good for him, but ache between your legs is becoming unbearable the longer you go on. Slick is slipping down your thighs, a puddling forming under you on the sheets as your body involuntarily preps itself to take Steve’s massive cock. You look up at him with teary eyes, lifting your ass in the air as a silent plea for him to take you like the bitch in heat that you are.

And as much as he’s loving watching you pitifully mouth his cock, seeing you present yourself for him turns off the evolved parts of his brain, leaving him to run on primal instincts only.

Grabbing you by the throat, he manhandles you onto your back and positions you so your ass on the edge of the cot. Your legs fall to the sides, opening as wide as you can get them, pussy on full display and ready to be taken.

“Hoooooo, fuck,” Steve shudders, licking his lips at the sight of your dripping cunt, hole clenching around nothing, begging for him to fill it up. He runs his fingers through your folds to collect some of your arousal, barely brushing over your throbbing clit. He brings his fingers to his mouth, shoulders slumping in satisfaction.

“Damnit, of course you taste sweet, too. Can’t wait til I can get you in my mouth,” he says with a slight slur.

You panic for a moment, unsure if you could wait any longer for him to finally be inside you. As if he can read you like a book, he lets out a soft chuckle, taking his cock in his hand and pumping it slowly. “Don’t you worry, baby girl, I’m not gonna keep you waiting any more. Next time, though…”

The sticky tip of his cock taps your clit, sending shock waves throughout your body with every touch. It’s too much and not enough all at once. His name falls from your lips, and he shushes you in return, lining himself up with your entrance.

The breach of his tip stretching you wide is like a shot of morphine in an IV drip, your body becoming numb and a live wire at the same time, replacing the pain with a fuzzy haze all over.

Steve watches the way your face contorts with pleasure as hips rock back and forth slowly. His teeth bite down on his bottom lip, trying his hardest to hold back so you can get used to his size, but the vice grip you have on his cock has him quickly losing his resolve. Body falling over you, he brackets your head between his forearms as he finally folds. His breath fanning over your face has your eyes fluttering open. Met with the most divine visual of Steve’s pinched brow, scrunched up nose, and slack jaw fill your vision entirely. Your breath is punched from your lungs as he makes that final thrust, bottoming out inside of you with a shuddered whimper.

“Oh, my god,” you breathe, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in closer. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, rubbing his face against your skin, marking you with his scent. He begins to move, setting a pace that makes every thrust feel like heaven, the tightness of your walls amplifying every ridge and bump of his cock as it drags back and forth. “Fuck, Steve, you’re so big,” you whine, “Never felt so full be-fore!” The last syllable comes out as a gasp as he thrusts into you hard, spurred on by your words.

His arms wrap around you tightly, laying all of his upper body weight against you to pin you in place so he can fuck into mercilessly. The feeling is mind melting, nonsense words mixed with repeating his name over and over fall from your mouth with each punch of his cock against your cervix. Each thrust hits that spot inside of you dead on, throttling you towards the edge quicker than your mind can handle in your current fucked out state.

“Fuuuuck,” Steve’s voice is strained next to your ear, thrusts slowing as you “Don’t squeeze so tight, baby, I don’t wanna cum yet.”

His words have the opposite effect on you as your whole body trembles beneath him, cumming so hard his cock your vision goes white. Your chest presses into his as your back arches off the mattress, the skin to skin friction against your hardened nipples stimulating you more as he fucks you through your high.

He lifts his head to watch you come undone with a wide eyed, feral look. He’s panting, too, with a string of saliva from his tongue to the skin of your shoulder where he had latched on, the skin red and already speckling with broken blood vessels.

“You’re so pretty when you cum on my cock like that,” he says with heavy breaths, “Wanna see you do it again, and again, and again,” he babbles, leaning in to trail kisses along your jaw, continuing to thrust into you harder and harder, in his own world now. You can only cling to him as he ruts into you, nails scratching down his back. “Gonna fuck you over and over and over until it takes. Big, round belly on full display for everyone to see. You gonna tell everyone Mr.Harrington got you pregnant when you can’t hide it anymore? What will all the other teachers think?”

“Fuck, Steve, please.”

“What is it, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“Want it, Steve. Want your knot.”

“Oh, is that right?”

Suddenly, he pulls away and out of you completely. It’s such a shock to the system you can help but cry out at the loss of him. But the vacancy doesn’t last long, his strong arms lifting and flipping you with ease until you’re face down into the mattress, ass being propped up on shaky legs so he can bottom out in you once more.

This new angle changed everything. A wanton moan feels like it was being pushed out of you as it felt like his cock was in your lungs. One hand grabs a hold of your hip while the other pushes down on the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down so he can pick back up his brutal pace. There was no rhythm to his thrusts, driven purely on animalistic instincts as he chases his own pleasure, using you as a means to get him there.

“You want my knot, huh?” The question is rhetorical, said in the heat of the moment as he feels his peak nearing. “Want me to give you my knot and really knock you up? I’ll ruin you for any other alphas that think they have a chance. Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, sweet girl? No other alpha’s gonnna fuck you like I can, right?”

“No-no, Steve! Don’t want anyone else! Only want your knot! Please, please!” Your eyes lull as he fucks you stupid, mouth parted open as you drool onto the sheets.

His weight shifts, trailing kisses down your back until he gets to that spot on the back of your neck. A chill runs down your spine as his teeth scrape against the skin over your scent gland. “Well, if that’s the case…Guess you wouldn’t mind if I held you to that, right?”

The primal part of your brain is screaming for him to do it; mark you and make you his, permanently. The logical side fights for dominance, reminding you that you never wanted to be owned by an alpha, which is why you and your ex broke up in the first place. But the way he was making you feel right now had you second guessing all your morals. He hums over you, lips lingering against your skin as he speaks.

Before you could answer, his hips were stilling inside you, the base of his cock swelling as he pumped you full with his spend. It would have been painful if it didn’t trigger the release of oxytocin in your body, making you cum with him. Your legs start to give out, but his hold on you tightens as his spend continues to spill into you., the His body shakes above you, chest heaving as tries to catch his breath.

The two of you take a moment to come down from your highs. The air around you feels electric as the two of you become one, his knot settling within your walls snuggly, the steady stream of Steve’s cum filling you to the brim until you couldn’t possibly take anymore. He rests his head over your scent gland, rubbing his face against it out of comfort while you still emit that sweet, sweet smell.

Everything feels right in the moment, until it’s interrupted by a knock and an intruding aroma. To you, it smells like smokey wood and cinnamon, but to Steve, it’s a threat. The smell of another alpha trying to get near his omega and claim her over him. You can feel his body tense up, breathing picking up in a panic, lips pressing against the skin as his mind races.

“Steve?” You say his name meekly. There’s a short pause between you, a split second before you feel it, his teeth clamping down on your skin. It’s like every nerve in your body lights up all at once. The sensation is powerful it makes you cum again, clamping down on Steve’s still hard cock buried inside of you. The moan he lets out against you is pornographic, teeth still clinging to your skin tightly as his saliva mixes with your body’s natural scent.

“Hey, everything okay in there?” The muffled voice calls from the other side of the door.

“Get the fuck out of here, Eddie!” Steve yells out to the janitor, another alpha that you’d seen in passing, pinching your skin as he does his best to keep his teeth on you. It’s quiet for a moment, and you think that Eddie left until you hear a loud, booming laugh, and a faint “About damn time!” as the new smell starts to dissipate.

Steven feels your body jolt slightly beneath him and refocuses his attention on you. You do it again with an audible snort. At first he thinks you might be crying, guilt creeping in as he’s realized what he’s done to you. But as you get louder, it’s clear that you are actually laughing.

“Was tho funneh?” He asks, drooling down onto your back.

“I don’t know,” you say through fits of giggles. “I think I’m losing my mind.”

“Thounds like et,” he says, laughing along with you.

“Sorry, I just…wasn’t expecting any of this.” Your body shifts under him, growing uncomfortable in the position you were in. Steve senses this, releasing your skin and licking your wounds so that, with careful maneuvering, he’s able to get both of you comfortably on your sides. He wraps his arms and legs around you, holding you close to his strong chest, eyeing his handiwork of his mark as you rest your head on his arm.

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” he says softly, kissing the back of your head. “If anyone should be apologizing, it should be me. I took things too far…But if I’m going to be honest with you, I don’t regret it.”

It could be the residual high from your heat, or the change in your brain chemistry from his mark, or just the fact that you’ve been pushing down how much you really wanted this with him from the moment your hands touched when you both went for the same bagel at the first staff meeting over the summer, but you couldn’t deny that you didn’t regret it either.

For so long you’ve been in denial, trying to ignore that he was the reason your suppressants stopped working because you wanted him so badly that your body was rejecting them when he was around. Denying how happy you get when he brings you coffee in the morning, or how much you look forward to when he sits with you during his lunch period to talk about whatever shenanigans his multitude of friends get into, or how the whole reason you started this heat was because he let you sit in the passenger seat of his BMW while he jumped your car after work on Tuesday, the inside smelling so overwhelmingly like him that you had to jump out and rush straight to your car before you ended up jumping him in the middle of the parking lot.

“Steve?” You request his attention just above a whisper, breaking the silence between you. He hums quizzically, resting his cheek against yours. “Did you really need to grade papers this week, or have you been avoiding me this week because you knew I was going through a heat?”

His cheek vibrates against yours as he chuckles from his throat. “You’re so smart, you know that, right?” He kisses your cheek before settling back with his head on the pillow, forehead resting against the back of your head.

As the two of you lay there you ask him a million questions, picking his brain to its fullest extent with this new closeness the two of you share. Really, you just like the sound of his voice, but he does say a few things here and there that make you belly laugh.

“Don’t do that,” he laughs along with you, “We’re never going to come undone if you keep squeezing me like that!”

“I can’t help it,” you wipe a tear from your eye, trying your hardest to suppress your giggles.

Thirty minutes pass and Steve’s knot finally goes down enough that he can pull out of you. It feels like a part of you is missing now that he’s no longer occupying you after so long. Hot, sticky cum pours from you like a storm drain onto the sheet below. With a sigh, you make a mental note to add new sheets on your list of things to replace, right under a new box of bandaids.

Oh, shit. Steve’s arm.

As he starts to gather the discarded clothes on the floor, you see that that blood has dried up and mostly rubbed off after everything. After the two of you redress, you wearing Steve’s button up after he made your blouse no longer wearable, not that you were complaining as the need to nest was starting to kick in, you cared for his wound. Just a cut left behind that would be okay with a little disinfecting and a few steristrips.

“You forgot the most important part,” he says with a shake of his head as you place the last strip on his arm. You tilt your head at him in confusion, a smile forming on his face as he looks at you with a sparkle in his eyes. “Aren’t you gonna kiss it better?”

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billskeis · 4 months

Note

tom fluff please

ᡣ𐭩 tom w his new hair do

a heavy sigh was heard from the front door, your boyfriend had just came home from a hair appointment the both of you were anticipating. as shoes shuffled, waiting to be taken off, you ran at the speed of light outside your bedroom and beelined it for the front of the house.

“hi baby! let me see your hair,�� you almost tripped going down the stairs due to your hurries to see tom’s new hair.

“sorry schatzi not right now..” his voice and breath was thick. he sounded upset, as though he just didn’t want to talk to you or anyone at the moment.

you didn’t want to pressure him into showing you, but he seemed so excited before he left? what happened?

he places a kiss on your cheek and heads towards the bathroom, you stand there, confused. next thing you hear is the sound of the bathroom door being locked, and tom never locks the door.

what’s going on?

you knock on the door, “tom? what’s wrong?” silence. you didn’t hear anything from behind the door, until he finally spoke for after what seems like forever, “n-nothing baby.. just, give me a minute i’m taking a shit alright?” you let your hand rest on the doorknob for a moment.

at this point you just thought to leave your boyfriend alone, maybe with some time, he will show you. ready to leave the foyer, you take your first step to go back into the bedroom to wait for him.

that was until you heard the door creak open and a sniffle.

whipping to turn your head around, you’re faced with your boyfriend who’s head is down. he has a hat covering his head, unrevealing his new hairdo to you. you witness a couple of tears fall from his face to the floor, “baby! what’s wrong??”

“will you like it?” he says every word with a sniffle following after. his voice is shaky, how could tom be so upset after something so exciting? “like what?” “like my hair..”

you soften your gaze at him, you rub circles on his shoulder to comfort him knowing how much he loves physical touch. feeling him ease under your touch, he begins to remove the hat, slowly, you bite your lip in anticipation.

not about the new hair, but how sensitive your boyfriend is. you’d love it regardless to what he’s done to it.

“the media.. it’s only been a few hours since i’ve gotten it done. four fucking hours. but those four hours let people to just—fuck, say shit.. mean shit..” “like what baby?” “go back to your old hair, you’re not as attractive anymore, we don’t like this new hairstyle, blahblahblah—like i can’t fucking take it anymore schatzi..”

you bring tom into a warm embrace, his head immediately falls into your shoulders, nuzzling his head into the crevice between your neck and head. because he’s taller than you, he has to lean a bit down.

and despite the size different between the two of you, he feels so safe within your arms.

“oh tom�� don’t listen to them, come, raise your head and let me see.” you let go of your boyfriend so he can show you the new hair he got.

they’re braids, he also went from his lightbrown matt locks to black hair. and god, did he look so fucking hot.

“what!! tomi you look so incredibly good with them..” “my so-called fans don’t think so,” you cup his face with both your hands, his cheeks are soft. you use your thumb to wipe away the tears still shedding.

“then they’re not your fans.. real fans would appreciate and love the new look, i know i do!” he looks at you, eyes all glossy and shiny. tom smiles slightly feeling more comfortable in the compliments you unleash at him.

“my beautiful, handsome boy, how could anyone ever hate this new look? i love it…” he turns his head a bit to kiss the inside of your palm, “thank you, thank you liebling. you don’t understand how much i really needed to hear this,” “anytime! it’s my duty, isn’t it?” “that it is.”

the two of you share a laugh, “now come, let’s get you into bed yea?” you take your hands into his and lead your new, dashing boyfriend upstairs.

“y/n baby, you haven’t stopped touching them ever since we got into bed,” the two of your bodies are intertwined with another, a movie playing in the background as this is how you guys wanted to unwind for tonight.

“not my fault! i’m toootally obsessed, i mean, no sane person wouldn’t be!” “i guess you’re right.” finally, he agrees. he’s been so insecure since this afternoon, and after some time, he’s finally getting used to the hair.

you twirl one of the braids in between your fingers, asking him a bunch of questions such as how long did it take, who did them, and how do we take care of them. to the opposite of your surprise, tom was able to answer all these questions.

you really liked hearing him talk, the reason for this was to also let your boyfriend ramble and forget about all the negativity from earlier.

he was so cute, the way his lips curled upwards into a smile as he mentioned how nice the ladies were when they were doing his hair. the way he licks his lips to wet them after his mouth gets dry from talking too much.

oh, and don’t forget the eye contact.

he will look at you the whole time, endearingly, he will probably tell you later but you can tell how much he really appreciates it that you were so understanding of him and his concerns.

“oh! and they gave me this oil to put in them, and this, uh—silk to put around my head to sleep in, it’s so cool!” he pauses, “you good schatzi?” “yeayea, nothing’s wrong.. i just really like hearing you talk, voice s’nice,” “really? thank you :).”

man, the way he smiled at you.. your boyfriend was extremely beautiful inside and out.

#tokio hotel #tokio hotel x y/n #tokio hotel x you #tokio hotel x reader #tokio hotel fluff #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz fluff #2000s #fyp

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seeingivy · 9 months

Text

historic wins

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting series

content: mentions of implied SA/uncomfortable agent, nothing else too serious. reader has anxiety before performing, eren being sick in love, baddie moment

an: when I tell you writing this chapter took ten years of my life, it really did. i literally had the worst day ever regardless BUT i regurgitated out and i can't tell if i hate it bc my mood is bad or bc its actually bad if its bad let all just collectively close our eyes please bc it ACTUALLY gave me a tension headache FDSFDSF

previous chapter

You knock on the door, the stress sitting on your shoulders, as you hear rustling behind the frame. When it swings open, you’re met with Marco and Reiner answering the doors, the two of them swiftly pulling you in and slamming the door shut behind you.

“Did anyone see you when you came in?” Reiner asks, his hand still pulling you up the stairs.

“No. Was-is there someone there or-”

“Paparazzi. They’ve been swarming since yesterday, we've barely been able to leave as it is.” Marco responds.

They drag you up the stairs and both push open the first white door open. You’re met with five pairs of eyes staring you down. Eren, Connie, Mikasa, Ymir, and Historia - who looks downright horrible.

You figured it was bad. You had seen the headlines on your way down - saying Historia was canceled, her trending on Twitter, her socials getting blocked. And you always thought that situations like this were sensationalized when you weren't famous, something horrible to go through. But it’s worse than you expected.

She looks sick.

Her complexion is pale green, her eyes rimmed red, and her hair is tangled into such a mess at the top of her head that it’s making your stomach turn.

The Historia you know - glimmering blue eyes, soft blow-dried hair - is no comparison to the downright ghost you’re looking at now. And the worst part of it all is her expression.

Broken. Defeated. Crushed.

You walk forward, opening your arms for her to sink into, and she immediately breaks out into sobs. She’s crying into your shoulder, her salty tears making a home against your skin and her cries so loud they're giving you goosebumps. You can see the rest of them behind you - Mikasa and Ymir sharing a knowing look - as Historia lets go and crawls back into the middle of her bed.

You take a seat next to Eren on the floor, the two of you crisscrossed against her pale pink walls. He links his hand with yours as you plop your head onto his shoulder.

“Is that everyone?”

“Yeah, Hisu. The rest of them couldn’t get off and Levi and Hange are on their way now.” Ymir responds, her hands making small circles into her back.

“Okay. I-I appreciate you coming, even when everyone hates me right now.”

“We could never hate you, Hisu. Ever.” Eren responds the tone definitive, angry, and firm. It only occurs to you now that you’ve never really seen Eren like this - his shoulders tensed up, the look in his eyes burning hot instead of softly warm.

“I know, I just-”

“No one could ever make us change our mind about you, Historia. The shit they’re saying doesn’t even sound like you. Why would you randomly fire your agent when you’ve literally loved him for years?” Reiner responds.

Historia’s face pales at the mention of her agent, the reaction catching all of you off guard. Eren pulls his arm around your shoulder as you both slump farther down the wall, the anticipation, the anxiety of what Historia’s about to say so palpable it makes your throat dry.

“I did fire my agent.” Historia chokes out.

You remember her agent well, from when you met him at the season two premiere. He was a tall guy, with chocolate brown hair and a fair amount of wrinkles. He couldn’t be much older than your own parents, but he was always the biggest supporter of Historia. The first person in line to brag about her, about how amazing her career has been, how many credits she has for how old she is.

“Why?” Connie asks.

Historia takes a deep breath, her head in her hands and her voice shaky as she starts explaining.

“I was set to act in Endless Love, that big movie being produced at the end of winter. I had gotten the lead role and I found out on my birthday, while I was still filming that limited series. I-I threw a big party to celebrate the fact that I was turning eighteen, that I was getting my dream roles, that my work was finally coming to fruition and-”

She pauses, leaning back on her bed as she screeches it out of her voice. And what she says hangs in the air, making your head feel like solid metal.

“The party ended and he was…congratulating me on everything. And I told him that I appreciated everything he had done for me, how far he had helped me come. And when-when I said that, he said…if I was really grateful, I’d give him a kiss.”

You pause, the implication sticking in your mind. Eren had hinted it to you before. That people in the industry take advantage, that they’re so powerful, so successful that it makes them feel entitled, deserving of whatever it is they please.

“I fired him. He went on Twitter, made a few tweets about my character when the news broke and you know how he is. They’re-they’re dragging my name through the mud. Calling me spoiled, that I paid to get the roles that I had, calling me names, sending me death threats and I-”

“You don’t have to worry about that. Levi and Hange will be here any minute and you know they’ve had their fair share of this. Hange especially and they’ll know what to do and-” Ymir starts.

“This is career-ruining. I didn’t do anything- anything at fucking all and my career is over if I tell the truth. I have to stay quiet, put my head down, and take it all if I still want to do this and I do.”

You all sit quietly, head down as she pants, the words angrily spilling out of her mouth. The words hang in the air, the silence deafening. Because what do you even say to that?

Can you really compromise your own feelings for the sake of your career? Your art?

“Okay, Historia. Let’s talk, just us, okay?”

You all turn your heads to find Levi and Hange leaning against the doorframes, Erwin standing at the back too. You all stand up, Historia running first to Hange and the rest of you following suit. You and Eren reach for Levi first, squeezing him way too hard. Levi ruffles both of your hair as you look up at him, a soft smile pressed against his face.

“Okay, run off. Let us talk to Historia first, okay?”

You both nod, letting go of Levi as you walk down the hall.

“Levi?”

“Hm, Y/N?”

“I missed you.”

“Don’t be corny, brat.” Levi responds, glaring at you. You smile back and he most definitely murmurs something that sounds like I miss you too as you and Eren walk out.

The lot of you settle for milling around the kitchen, Mikasa talking Ymir down from her hill of rage in the back. You can’t help but watch Eren in the back corner, leaning against the counter with his eyes fixed on the outside.

There’s a group of stormy, angry-looking gray clouds simmering in the air above, the grass outside lush and green. It’s positively gloomy, the weather matching the storm brewing in all of your heads.

Eren flicks his eyes over at you, making a gesture for the two of you to go outside. You nod, setting down your phone as you walk over to him, the two of you sliding open the side door and walking out onto the pavement. Historia’s house opens up onto a nice green field, surrounded by lush, flowery hills.

He’s walking faster than you, his long legs carrying him to the closest slope. When the breeze picks up, it’s moving through your hair strongly and sending a shiver down your spine with it.

“Are you cold?”

“Just a little, Eren. I didn’t realize it would be this cold outside.”

He immediately shrugs off his dark green hoodie, the one you’ve seen a hundred times, and yanks it over your head. He’s placing it over your head haphazardly and you can hear him laughing at your protests.

“You know, you could have at least aimed for my head when you yanked it on me.”

“Be quiet. Let’s sit.”

He plops down onto the grass, lying flat against the flowers as you join him. You’re both watching the clouds swirl above, the blades of grass whistling in the wind against your hands.

“This is lying down, Eren.”

“Oh, shut up. Do you always have to talk back?”

You turn your head to the side, looking into his eyes.

“Maybe a little bit.”

He rolls his eyes, turning his head back to the sky. You can tell he’s more tense than usual, his jaw clenched against his skull and his eyebrows knit in irritation.

“Are you okay, Eren? You've seemed off today and-”

“Quit asking me that!”

You’re thrown off by the immediate rejection, the tone in his voice so angry it nearly makes you flinch. You can feel your skin burning - in embarrassment and humiliation for asking him something stupid-

His hand comes down on yours, squeezing three times, as he shifts over to face you. You follow suit, the two of you lying on your sides, face to face with your interlocked hands in between you.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I-I’m not mad at you. Marco and Connie, they’ve just been asking all day and I’m okay and it’s just getting tiring to-”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I-I can never be mad at you, I just-just got frustrated for a second, but never at you.”

You lift your hand, placing it on his ice-cold cheek, and squeeze once.

“It’s okay, Eren. I know,” you whisper.

He gives you a smile, closing his eyes as he leans his head against the flowers. They’re pale yellow and you silently wonder if they’re as soft as Eren’s skin feels under your hand.

“I’m not okay, Y/N.” he whispers.

“Want to tell me about it?”

“I-I have a brother.”

“Zeke. I remember, Eren.”

“We-we don’t really get along anymore, but I loved him when I was a kid. He was always so cool - driving me around in his car to get ice cream, teaching me tricks on all the video games I used to play, and acting in all these really cool shows. But, he-he”

You place a hand on his shoulder, moving it back and forth and trying your best to comfort him into talking. Eren was always the worst with words.

“He had a scandal like this. And then he started talking to all these big producers, acting differently all of a sudden. He stopped talking to me all together after it all happened and only to my parents when he needed something. Even to this day, he’s come back from what happened but he was never the same. And I-”

“That’s not going to happen to Historia, Eren. Don’t think like that.”

He leans forward, dragging you into his embrace, as he digs his face into the crook of your neck. You bring your hands up, dragging him through the tresses of his brown hair as he squeezes harder.

“It just-I got iced out by him. I wanted to be around him, wanted to be him and he just stopped talking to me all together. I loved him so much and I-

“Eren. Historia loves you. She’s not going to ice you or any of us out from this because she’s not like that. None of us will. And maybe your brother had a reason for what he did.”

You and Eren stay like that for a few minutes, the words hanging in the air between you. You can feel your chest stinging at Eren’s words, his stress from the situation making more sense now. You curse the fact that Eren might have been dealing with something like death threats, people spewing hatred before he was old enough to even understand what it meant.

“Hey. You’re supposed to be on my side, Y/N.”

“This is being on your side. Sometimes that means being a devil's advocate a little bit, Eren.”

He rolls his eyes as he readjusts and you can’t help but stare at them. His eyes. Bottle green, with specks of darker shades in the middle. Like a clear ocean or a shiny gem, glittering even in the dull light of the clouds.

“What are you thinking, Y/N?”

“Your eyes have lots of colors, Eren. Pretty greens.”

“Pretty?”

“Pretty.”

He smiles, bringing a hand up to your cheek, his thumb tracing the shape of your lips. You can feel your body burning at the touch, at his eyes, at his smell all over you.

“Eren. What are you do-”

“Do you ever think about how we live in a fishbowl?”

“A fishbowl?”

“Like an aquarium. We’re fish on display, that everyone gets to point at and laugh at and enjoy. And then one day, when they don’t like us, they put their rods out and wring us out.”

“I guess, Eren. Why do you-”

“I like being a fish with you.”

You lean back, squinting your eyes at him.

“You like being a fish with me?”

“I just mean- that I- I like”

“You think I smell like a fish, Eren.”

“What? I didn’t say that- oh my god, I just meant that we’re two fishes swimming together and-”

“The plural of fish is fish. Not fishes.”

Eren rolls his eyes, getting up off the grass to tackle you in the grass, pinning you down by your arms to hover over you. He’s smirking at you, his lips only a few feet from yours.

“You’re annoying, Y/N. I was trying to be cute.”

“Let me go. Is this how you treat your fellow fish?”

“Shut up. We’re not fish together anymore because you’re rude.”

He gets up off of you, plopping back into the grass next to you. You’re both laughing, your cheeks hurting from smiling so hard and the blood rushing to your head.

“I’m just teasing, Eren. The whole fish thing is cute.”

“Now you’re just saying that so I’ll stop being mad at you.”

“Hey! I get what you’re saying. It’s like…we’re fish. People stare and talk and whatever and it sucks. And no one really understands what it’s like to be a fish, even when they’re staring at us through the glass, but you do. They’ll always be something between us and them, but you and I are always on the same side. We-we have each other.”

He smiles, bringing his hand back up on the back of your neck and pulling you closer to his face. When he talks, he whispers, the breath tickling your skin.

“So if you got the fish thing why were you giving me so much attitude about it?”

“I have to keep you in line, Eren. You can’t have all the cards.”

“I don’t even have one, Y/N. Not even one when it comes to you.”

He smiles, his eyes shut as he leans forward to press his lips to yours. But before he can, his phone starts buzzing behind him and he leans back, the two of you awkwardly scrambling off of each other.

The moment passed.

“Reiner. This better be something fucking good.”

“What? Okay, we’re coming back now. Oh my god.”

Eren stands up, holding out a hand to you. You place your hand in his and he nearly yanks you up, the two of you running downhill back to the house.

“What-what happened?”

“The TV awards. They announced the nominations.”

When you both run back in, Reiner and Marco immediately drag you to the center couch, next to Historia who's crying puddles and Ymir who's holding her like there’s no tomorrow.

“Hisu got a nomination. Despite this shit.” Reiner says, smiling.

You and Eren smile at each other too, piling onto Ymir and Historia, and squeezing hard. A win.

When the program starts again, you’re all staring intently at the screen, you and Eren anxiously fumbling with each other’s hands as you wait for it. They’ve announced almost all of them, except the major acting ones which are the only ones you and Eren could really be nominated for.

“Speaking of historic nominations, lead actor for hit series Attack on Titan, Eren Jaeger, has garnered three nominations - including a major six category for Actor in a Lead Role. He is the youngest person to be nominated for this award.”

You turn your head, squeezing the entire circulation out of Eren’s hand as the realization sinks in. Actor in a Lead Role. Like Eren’s lifelong dream, Actor in a Lead Role. You reach forward, tangling your arms around his neck as Reiner and Mikasa pile on too, the three of you nearly strangling him by the way you’re shaking him.

“Okay, okay let me go. You’re going to kill me before I can even go to the show and lose.”

“Shut up. You’re so winning.”

He rolls his eyes at you both keep watching the lady, announcing the costume design and casting awards.

“And finally, our record-breaking announcement. Lead actress for the hit series Attack on Titan, Y/N L/N, has broken history by being our most nominated actress in Institute history. Including nominations for the ensemble cast, she has garnered five nominations, including two major six categories for Actress in a Lead Role and Breakout Actress. She is the first non-SHWA affiliated actress and the youngest to ever do so.”

Eren drops the remote and turns to you, cupping your face in his hands and dragging your face as close as he can to his.

“Are you fucking kidding me? You-you’re insane. You just-”

He nearly leans forward, pressing your lips together for the second time in the past twenty minutes, but Marco and Mikasa cut him off before you can, the two of them jostling you from his embrace to squish you in a hug. You give Eren an apologetic look, which he shakes his head at.

They’re all squishing you so hard - Levi and Hange pressing kisses to the top of your head and Historia squeezing the life out of all of you - but all you can think about is one thing. Eren, standing a few feet away from you, smiling at you like you’re the sun.

It only occurs to you then and there.

That you’re in love with Eren Jaeger.

You guys leave on your press tour two weeks later, meeting up in New York. You have a full day of interviews for the pre-awards show the day before and then you’re all going to fly out to Los Angeles together and attend the awards.

Not only are you nominated for six awards - which you still haven’t wrapped your head around - you’re also performing at the show. Your agent had reached out to you a few days after the nominations list went out and mentioned that you were listed to perform at the show.

You hacked it out with Eren. You’d play the piano and perform New Year’s Day, the song you wrote together last year on your birthday, and be done with it. It’s the song you have the most practice working on since the rest of your songs are half-baked.

But now that you’re doing press, you barely have any time to practice - being stuck between interviews all day. You shake the thought from your head as you and Eren clip your microphone jacks to each other’s shirts before walking onto the stage and standing in view.

“My name is Eren Jaeger and I’m one of the leads of Attack on Titan.”

“My name is Y/N L/N and I’m the other lead of Attack on Titan. We’re going to be taking a Friendship Test today!”

Around halfway through the interview, the crew brings you and Eren little notepads and pens, instructing you guys to compliment each other. You scribble a few thoughts down as you and Eren stand on the stage, now facing each other.

“Okay, you first, Eren.”

Eren flips the notepad in his hands, awkwardly fumbling with his fingers when he does. When he looks up, his green eyes are awkwardly meeting yours.

“Jeez, Eren. I didn’t realize it would be this hard for you to compliment me.”

“Shut up. I was just thinking about how to start.”

“More like thinking of what to say.”

“Be quiet.”

“Okay, okay. Compliment me, Jaeger.”

He rolls his eyes, giving you a smile as he runs his eyes over the notepad. He seems much more at ease now, the awkwardness from before coming off in waves.

“Y/N. I am the most stubborn person on the planet. Which only speaks volumes about how patient, understanding, and compassionate you really are for being my best friend.”

You can feel your throat getting dry and your eyes welling with tears at literally the first sentence, taken aback by how sincere Eren’s being. The soft eyes, the one he only reserves for when he’s lying down on hills or writing songs with you on the piano are out in the flesh, and they’re making your heart pound so much you’re sweating under the lights.

“You’ve always been able to sense my feelings - my happiness, my frustrations, my pain - without me having to tell you. And you always, always know how to say the right thing to bring me back down to Earth from it all. You make me a better person and I love you for it.”

You can feel the tears streaming down your eyes as reach up to wipe your tears away, knowing you’re smudging the makeup your team spent hours on.

“You’re not terrible to look at either.”

He smiles into the camera on the side and you can feel the tears spilling from your eyes, your nose filling with snot.

“Eren.”

“Told you it was good.”

“Shut up. That was so sweet, I didn’t even know you knew half of those words, let alone what they mean.”

Eren reaches forward, rolling his eyes at you as he squishes your cheeks.

“I literally just called you the best person I know and you’re still being annoying?”

“Yes. It’s a full-time job.”

He turns to the camera, moving your squished face towards the camera with him.

“Do you guys see what I have to deal with? My girl is literally the most stubborn person on the planet.”

“Didn’t you call me infinitely patient five seconds ago?”

You both stand back on your marks as you wipe your tears, reaching forward to hold Eren’s hand. You squeeze three times, which he returns with another three squeezes, before you take your own notepad and read your compliment out to Eren.

“Eren. I wouldn’t be standing here if it wasn’t for you. Not only because you took a chance on me after our first screen test, but every other hiccup along the way was only something I could swallow because of you. You-your steadfast determination and belief in me is something so inspiring, so warm unlike anything else. You’ve always been a safe place for me, somewhere I can always run to when I need someone. I’m so glad we can always be fish together.”

Eren smiles at the fish line, leaning forward to crush you in a hug. You can smell the clean laundry smell on his shirt, breathing it in as you soak in Eren’s embrace around you.

“Hey Y/N.”

“Hey Eren.”

“I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I love you too, Eren.”

After the interview is over, you and Eren are stuck on this stage for another hour before the rest of the cast comes to do another interview. You both stay in the back, near the snack table and run through the song again.

“Eren.”

“Hm?”

“I don’t know why I got signed up to perform at this thing. I-I don’t think I’m ready to perform this song yet.”

“You are. New Year’s Day is a great song and you’re an amazing singer. Plus, the person you wrote the song about is really attractive, so that helps your case too.”

You reach forward to flick his cheek.

“Shut up. New Year’s Day is not about you.”

“I’m literally your inspiration. You literally wrote a love song about me.”

“You wish, Eren.”

“I don’t have to. I can see it written all over your face, sweetheart.”

“Sweetheart? When did you become so cocky?”

“When did you become so beautiful?”

“Eren.”

“Y/N.”

You’re both cut off by one of the crew members, a shorter, older woman standing near the table with her eyes fixed on you. She smiles when you guys both turn towards her, extending her out.

“Hi. My name is Le-”

“Leila. I remember. You helped us fix the microphone packs before we started!” you respond.

“Oh. Yes, Leila. I can’t believe you remembered that. I-I was going to ask you for a favor if that’s okay.”

“Sure. We’d love to help however we can.”

“My daughter. She’s a really, really big fan of the show. I was wondering if we could take a picture together so we could send it to her.”

You smile, gesturing to Eren to stand up with you as you take a picture with her. You and Eren are both taller than her so you put your hands around her shoulders and muster the biggest smiles you can for the picture.

“Are you sure you didn’t want us to make a video of us saying hi to her or anything? Or maybe call her if she’s free? If there’s a paper here we can sign something as well or anything you want.” you ask.

“Oh, I couldn’t impose. You guys have been so kind already and-”

“Nonsense. Eren and I are just going to sit here and I’d really love to help make her day. You work so hard day and night on these sets for us and make sure everything works by the time we get here and we really, really appreciate it.”

You and Eren end up filming a video for her daughter since she’s already asleep so you can’t call her, and you and Eren also sign a few posters for her to take home to her daughter.

“Y/N. Just so you know, you’re amazing. My daughter was so inspired when you signed yourself up to perform at the awards show after you openly talked about how nervous it makes you. You actually gave her the courage to sign up for a dance team at her school and she actually made it on the team now. My point is you’re a big inspiration to everyone and the strides you’re making for all of us don’t go unnoticed.”

She gives you both one last hug as she runs off back to the other side of the set, giving you a smile as she leaves. Eren brings his hand around your shoulder, leaning forward as he smiles at you.

“You hear that, Y/N? You’re an inspiration.”

“It’s weird to hear that, Eren. I remember being that kid watching Hange win on the screen when I was little. And if I win-”

“When. When you win.”

“If I win, it’s weird to think that I could be that for someone else.”

“You’ve always been that way. People are just noticing it now.”

“Do you have to sign yourself up to sing for the awards, by the way? Because…I never even told my agent that I had written a song. She just told me that I would be performing and then I started prepping.”

“Yeah. You have to send a demo for them to accept the performance.”

You lean back, even more confused than you were before. There’s no demo of New Year’s Day. How could they accept your performance if there’s no record of you singing it? How could they even know you wrote a song when the only person who knows you even finished it was Eren?

Eren.

“What did you do?”

“Hm?”

“You did something, Eren. What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

��Eren.”

“Maybe, I took the sheet music and recorded a demo of me singing it. And convinced them that it would sound even better when you did it, because it’s your song.”

You smack him across the shoulder.

“You signed me up to sing the song? In public, on live television?”

“The song is good. You’re a phenomenal singer. And you can’t become a triple threat unless people hear you sing.”

You stand on the other side of the curtain, shiny and gold, as you readjust your dress one last time. You take a deep breath as you give a smile to Marco and Jean, who are right behind you, squeezing your arms.

“You’re good. You look great and you’re going to kill it tonight. And Eren just walked out on the carpet so he’ll be right there.” Marco says, smiling brightly at you.

You nod, giving the two of them a smile back, as you part the curtains and walk out onto the red carpet. You can feel your ankles shaking from the heels you were wearing, making sure to walk slowly so they didn’t tangle with the long, purple billowing fabric of your dress. As you turn to the right, you’re immediately blinded by the flashing lights and the sound of screaming from the photographers on the other side of the red carpet.

The lights are so blinding that you can feel yourself squinting, trying your hardest to muster a smile with your eyes closed. You can already feel the embarrassment coming on from how these pictures are going to trend later, trying to swallow the lump in your throat.

“Put these on.”

You turn to the left to see Eren, his hair messily styled to perfection. He’s holding up sunglasses, a matching pair in his hand as well. You both place them on your nose, garnering a big amount of cheers from the paparazzi as you both pose together, Eren’s hand around your waist.

“How did you know?” you whisper under your breath.

“You can barely handle Armin’s Polaroid. You get used to the flashes, but the first time it’s hard to adjust. And this is a big night, so I had to make sure I had a contingency plan.” he says.

“Always thinking ahead, huh?”

“Only for you, sweetheart.”

All you can think about is the awards, the performance, and the anxiety building in your stomach with every passing second. You force a smile as you both walk down the carpet, stopping every few seconds to take pictures and smile. At one point, Eren stands in front of you in the camera, blocking the view.

“What a picture, Eren. You really want them to get a shot of your ass?”

“No. Your dress. It’s kind of sliding off the side.”

You look down, realizing that in all the movement and sweating you’re doing under the lights, that one of the clasps keeping the fabric in place came undone. You quickly tuck the clasp back together and look up to shoot Eren a smile.

“Thanks. You just saved me from flashing everyone on the carpet.”

“That doesn’t sound too horrible, doll.”

You and Eren turn around to find Sukuna and Nobara standing at your side, the two of them wrapping their arms around you and pressing a kiss to your cheeks. Eren immediately yanks Sukuna off, his arm stiff around Sukuna’s shoulder.

“You never get less annoying, do you?” Eren asks.

“Not really, no.”

“You look really pretty, Y/N. We’re really rooting for you, we want you to win.” Nobara says, her hands squeezing yours.

“Don’t get your hopes up. These types of things are kind of a long shot, Kugi.”

“We know. Doesn’t stop me from rooting for you though.”

You smile, leaning to take a picture with her before the four of you walk off to the side, continuing your conversation.

“Where are Yuu and Maki? I haven’t seen them since they started dating and stopped responding to my texts.”

Sukuna and Nobara share an awkward look, leaning forward to whisper in your's and Eren’s ears.

“They broke up. Well, just wait. You know the mess they're in is going to find its way to the tabloids somehow.”

You and Eren cringe as you share a look, thinking about Historia’s scandal from a few weeks ago. You can’t imagine how much worse it must be when it involves the two of them. The intimate details of their relationship being on display.

“You look pretty, doll. Way more confident and self-assured than you were when I met you. It suits you.”

Eren slithers his hand around your waist, the grip firm, as he responds to Sukuna.

“She’s always been like that.”

“Okay, Eren. Pipe down. I’m not about to be swapping saliva with your girl anytime soon. Though you might want to get a move on that, everyone’s going to have their eyes on your girl by the end of the night.” Sukuna says, smirking at Eren.

“You sound disgusting, Sukuna. Like a pervert.” Nobara says, rolling her eyes at him.

“That’s what happened with Yuuta and Maki. Everyone went all gaga for Yuuta after the movie dropped. And after she sings too, Eren’s going to fight to stay afloat over here.”

“Ignore him, Eren. His neurons are decaying as we speak.” Nobara responds, giving Eren a smile.

“I’m well aware,” Eren says, giving the two of them a smile as they walk away.

As Sukuna walks away, Eren only tightens his grip on your waist, literally seething with anger as he turns to you. You can tell he’s burning, that he’s jealous or aggravated like he always is when Sukuna's around, and you put a hand on his shoulder.

“I hate that guy. So much, Y/N.”

“You know he just says that because you’re easy to piss off right?”

“Are you really taking his side?”

“I’m just saying. You give him a lot to work with when you react like that. You should try to be zen. Like a flower.”

"I'm so zen right now."

"There's a vein on your forehead that's pulsating from how hard you're clenching your jaw, Eren. You're more of a cactus than a pretty flower."

Eren rolls his eyes as he drags you into the auditorium, the two of you taking your seats at the front.

Five awards later - two of which you won - and you’re standing behind the stage ready to puke. You choked out your best acceptance speech when you won Breakout Actress, spilling tears as you spoke, and luckily enough the other award was one you and Eren won together. He carried most of your speech together, though Eren spent most of it raving about you.

Reiner’s still on stage, doing his acceptance speech for Breakout Actor and you’re ready to annihilate yourself. When you came back out after winning your award, getting ready for the performance, you received the worst news possible.

You have to play the piano while you sing. You have to play the piano while you sing because the pianist you’ve been practicing with has food poisoning.

You lie down flat on the ground, the silver dress you just put on, feeling heavy against your skin, weighing you down.

“Are you okay? Y/N, you’ll be fine, it's just a piano.”

Marco brings his hands to the side of your face, lifting your head so he can rest it on his lap. You’re totally aware of the fact that Marco’s sitting on this disgusting floor with you, in his expensive ass outfit, because you’re having a meltdown. You make a mental note to thank him for it later.

“Oh my fucking god, Y/N. Can you believe it? We’re literally breakout stars.”

You look up at Reiner, now having come off the stage with his shiny silver trophy in hand and a huge smile on his face. You give him a weak smile back, the pressure in your head only getting more intense when you realize it’s your turn. Reiner nearly cringes at the sight of you, which you ignore as you flutter your eyes shut. After the ad break, they’re going to roll out a shiny black piano you're expected to play.

“Get Eren.” Marco says and Reiner gives a swift nod. Reiner leans down to press a kiss to your cheek, whispering good luck, before he runs off into the background.

Not even thirty seconds later, you’re met with Eren, a third person now sitting on the dirty floor with you with the softest expression on his face. He’s taken both of your hands, pressing your knuckles to his lips as he presses a kiss onto them both.

“You okay?”

“The pianist. Has food poisoning. I have to play the New Year’s Day piano, Eren.”

“You have magic hands. You can do it.” he whispers.

You can feel Marco’s hands in your hair, fixing away the flyaways as you look up at him. Marco nods too and you can feel yourself feeling dizzy.

“I can’t do it. I can’t sing for the first time and play the piano. I-I can’t do this.”

"Y/N. Come on. You can do this."

You can feel the tears burning in your eyes when you meet Eren's bottle green ones, washed over in concern. And you know that it's just a piano, that it's juat a crowd, and that it's a song that you've sang a million times. But the anxiety is as big as a balloon, ready to burst into something ugly the second you walk out there under the lights.

Eren frowns as he looks over at the piano, getting rolled out onto the stage, and the crew awkwardly looking at you splayed out on the ground. They're pointing at their watches, signaling that if you're going to perform, you're going to do it now. And Eren can't let you choke, not when it's this important. So he does the only thing he can think of.

“I’ll play the piano."

You sit up and put your hands on his shoulders, squeezing hard on the fabric of his suit.

"Huh?"

"I'll sit at the bench with you. Play it for you so you can focus on singing."

“Really, Eren?” you whisper.

“Can’t do anything without me, can you?”

You lean forward and press a kiss to his cheek, his face immediately turning pink at the sensation. He holds his hand out and helps you up, his hands leaning forward to fix the folds of your dress. You both stand on the side of the curtains and you’re nearly positive you’re cutting off circulation to both Marco and Eren’s hands as you wait for your cue.

When you and Eren walk out, taking your seats on the piano bench and adjusting the microphones, you stare at the crowd. There’s a light flashing on you and Eren that’s partially obstructing your vision. You’re staring out at them - two hundred faces you don’t know and half a million watching at home.

Don’t choke. Don’t choke. Don’t choke.

It’s only then that Eren stops playing the piano, his hand on his shoulder shaking you. And then you realize now that he had started. Meaning he had played the entire intro waiting for you to sing and you didn’t. That you blanked on stage. He places his hand on your chin, lightly guiding your face to look at his.

“It's okay. Just you and me. Like we did on set okay?”

You nod and Eren starts playing the piano again. And before you know it, you’ve choked out the last lyric, and Eren’s holding your hand as you both bow on the stage. You see people cheering, standing up out of their seats as you walk off and you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest. When you get off into the curtains, they immediately start yank the microphones off of you two as you reach forward for Eren’s hand.

“I-I blacked out. Was it bad?”

“It was amazing. You’re amazing. You-you’re”

Eren leans forward, wrapping his hands around your neck and pressing his lips to yours. You can still feel people moving around you, setting up things for the closing part of the ceremony, but the only thing you’re paying attention to is Eren. And his lips. And the way he’s pulling you closer like he can’t get enough of you.

When you pull apart, you’re both panting, smiling at each other, foreheads pressed together.

“Thank god. If I got cock-blocked from kissing you a third time, I was actually going to commit murder.”

“You want me so bad,” you say, sarcastically.

“Obviously.”

You both smile and turn to the left, to a very smiley Marco staring at you two. And then you cringe, remembering that you and Eren are literally backstage and there are like seven people who just watched you suck face in public. Marco walks up, wrapping his arms around both of you and hugging hard.

“I love you guys.”

“Marco. Don’t-” Eren starts.

“I’m not going to tell anyone. You need time to figure out whatever is going on, without Connie and Sasha up your ass the entire time. But I’m really, really happy for you.”

“Really, Marco?” you ask, leaning into Eren’s touch.

“It’s always been you guys. You guys better not break up or else I’ll come hunt both of you down. And if I’m dead, I’ll come back to life just to haunt you guys.”

You both laugh, smiling at Marco and then each other. Levi and Mikasa call you from the other side of backstage, gesturing for you to come over to watch the video of the performance. You give Marco and Eren a smile before you run off to where they’re standing.

“Told you she liked you, Eren,” Marco says, elbowing him in the side.

“I love her,” Eren responds, watching Mikasa and Levi crush you in a hug as you all hunch over the video of you and Eren performing.

Marco smiles, giving Eren a pat on the back before he walks off to join you. Eren stays, trying to commit the memory to mind. You in a sparkly, silver dress looking at him like he's the sun.

Eren Jaeger is in love with you.

Two afterparties later and you and Eren are in a disgusting tattoo parlor down the street.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to do this, Eren.”

Eren smiles as he presses a kiss to your cheek, the two of you leaning through the little prints in the binder. You’re getting matching tattoos.

“I can be very persuasive.”

“Uh-huh. More like hypnotic. I’m half convinced you have me under some spell right now.”

“You pick what we do. Whatever you want, I’ll get it tattooed.”

“We should do something special, Eren. Like something that has significance to us.”

Eren smiles, lifting your hand to press a kiss to your knuckles again before he responds.

“Okay, okay. Let’s do fish.”

You smile, nodding at him.

“Koi fish. Like from that show, the Last Airbender. One fish is the ocean and the other one is the moon” you say.

“I call the ocean, Y/N.”

“What? I wanted to be the ocean.”

“No. That doesn’t fit.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moon pulls on the ocean. The waves in the ocean, objectively the best part, don’t exist without the moon. I’m the ocean. You’re my moon.”

You smile, leaning forward to kiss Eren before you tell the artist the design you two want. And when the two of you walk out, matching sore arms from the ink, you can’t help but wonder how you ever got so lucky in the first place.

A few years down the line, you stare at Eren's blocked contact and think back to that moment. The two of you running down the streets, bathed in dim lamplight laughing into the night. Matching tattoos, a confession on the tips of your tongues like you're two soulmates destined to be together.

You wonder where it got so fucked up between the two of you in the first place.

next part linked here

taglist: @k0z3me @kayleegomez @yihona-san06 @bsenpai @sweetenertea @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @cutiejg @bokutosthings @bookwrmm @mblrrr @wheredidmycrowngo @somethinginyoureyes7 @chilichopsticks @okaystopwhore @you-always-made-me-blush @itzmeme @firelordazulaaaa @whoami-72 @g-ghostly @intimacywithceline @erensmoodygf @cocomellxn @princess-ackerman @jaegerfiles @cacapeepee @squirrelspoetry @rui-0836 @moonmalice @invisible-mori @sofiasber @bbybeeb @timetobegone @tee4str @ttokki2 @leave-rae-alone @ec3lipsy @officialsimpp

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essycogany · 29 days

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Hot Take! Nine’s Redemption Arc Was Rushed

I’m usually positive on this blog, but I believe it’s important to have a balance. This’ll be my longest post yet, so buckle your seatbelts. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.

Quick Positive Points

I like the idea of an antagonistic Tails. Nine’s amazingly voiced by a VA I recognize. His design is awesome. His attitude and sarcasm can be entertaining. Nine saving Sonic’s skin when dealing with the Chaos Council was nice. The scene with Nine and Mr.Doctor Eggman talking about Sonic is one of my favorite moments. The thought of creating robots who look like the other characters as if Nine still wanted friends was neat. (even if he tried to kill with them) And despite my grievances, I thought Nine’s hug with Sonic at the end was adorable. The animation is what helped with that.

Introduction

While I do like Nine, I’m going to talk about my glaring issues with his character development. I can see both sides of the argument, but let me tell you why there’s more proof of Nine not being well written. I will implore you to think for yourselves regardless of what I have to say. We all have our opinions and I’m only here to share mine.

Nine’s Characterization

This is how the fox carry himself throughout the show and why most of it isn’t written well. I’ll state my issues with Sonic in certain moments too.

Season One

Nine’s reasonably defensive at first when Sonic came to his home out of nowhere. He became annoyed by Sonic’s immaturity yet concerned for him once they’re captured. After they meet the Rebels, his sassiness begins to show. Replying “You’re welcome,” after saving Sonic by taking control of Rusty. Having a direct and harsh tone when advising others to take the Chaos Council’s shard. And not seeming to care about the rest of the group who gets trapped with Mr. Doctor Eggman.

Nine: “Sonic we have to get to the core!” “You heard her come on!” This I understand because Nine doesn’t know them, so they don’t really matter to him. But then Nine dismisses Sonic’s feelings even after he asked “are you okay?” Because he noticed the hedgehog was a little off.

-Because Sonic started remembering the events that happened to him before he broke the Paradox Prism.

After Sonic realized the prism shattering was his fault Nine says, “Snap back to reality! Grab that shard and we’ll sort the rest out later!” Then when Sonic stated the original Tails told him not to touch it Nine states, “Well, I’m telling you the opposite! Now grab it and let’s go!” Not realizing if Sonic is the reason for the prism being small, his original variant might’ve known touching it was a bad idea. I also can’t forget about these lines.

Sonic: “If there’s anyone who’s got the brains to put it all back together, it’s you.” Nine: “That’s the first thing you’ve said that I agree with.” Nice ego for a person who ends up getting Sonic sucked up by the prism after being warned. Back to what I was saying before, Nine seems to only care about stealing the shard away from the Eggmen here. Which is proven later on in season one. His care for Sonic has progressed, but Sonic learns from the Rebels that Nine abandoned them. And it’s never addressed by Sonic.

-Sonic also insist Nine’s “not a traitor” without any proof. Sonic hasn’t known Nine that long. The last time Sonic saw the fox, he ended up getting the hedgehog sucked into another shatterspace. Unless Sonic’s talking about Nine working with the group. But I’d argue it was more for Sonic and his own sake. Especially since Nine left the Rebels and Rusty at the drop of a hat.

When Nine comes to help Sonic, he shows off the Grim and discuss how it’s “Their bright new future.” Wanting to live in the Grim with Sonic. Even after the last time he saw Sonic, Nine knew how distraught Sonic felt about losing his home. Again, Sonic stated he believed Nine could put the prism back together. Meaning his original friends and world would come back. But Nine immediately assumes Sonic would be happy living with him for the rest of his life. Which is sweet on paper but very messed up in execution. I’ll get into why later. To be fair, Nine’s never had a friend before and was bullied for most of his life. His social skills aren’t the best and he isn’t use to caring about others. But even if Nine didn’t understand empathy, he has no reason to believe Sonic would forget about his home just because Nine didn’t care about his.

Nine: “That city hasn’t brought me anything but misery. I owe it nothing.” He hasn’t been around Sonic for long either, but Sonic’s demonstrated his loyalty before. By worrying about the Rebels instead of the shard while Nine did vise versa. Anyways, Sonic explains he needs to save the Rebels. Nine being Nine didn’t care about them, but came to help anyways because he “cared about Sonic.” I’d say Nine only helped because he thought Sonic would join him after getting the other shards, but that’s my opinion.

Nine: “With enough fortifications and enough shard energy, this could be home.” Because of this line, I believe he already knew about the other shards before Sonic. Which is also why he knew what Sonic was doing in season two. He also says, “When this is over, I’m going home and never looking back. Whether I go it alone is entirely up to you.” Still assuming things.

-Sonic doesn’t give Nine an answer for some reason. Only responding with “I knew you’d come back, buddy.” Projecting how he’d expect Tails to act. Which becomes a serious problem later.

Season Two

Throughout this season, Nine helped Sonic collect the shards. Which was a bonus to keep developing the Grim.

-Sonic and the Rebels have another debate on trusting Nine. At least this time when Sonic says “He saved you,” it’s true. Nine took down the Doctors before Sonic and co got killed. I’d still argue it was for Sonic, but Nine still saved their lives despite his intentions.

I’ll also admit when Mr.Doc used Nine, it was reasonable for him to feel as if he had no choice. He even apologizes to Sonic. We even learn how Nine first fount the Grim and see him make a hammock for Sonic. But the positives goes down hill once we get into the shard chase between Nine, Sonic, and the villains. Once away from the Docs Sonic stated, “Oh, things are finally coming together. We’ve got the shards! We can finally fix everything!” He’s still obviously talking about Green Hill and his friends. But Nine doesn’t notice this. Instead he says, “It’s going to be perfect.” Very specific you two. Nine seems to suddenly believe Sonic changed his mind and Sonic still thinks Nine and Tails are one and the same.

Dude even calls the fox “Tails Nine,” while introducing him to another character. What are the odds? Later on Nine says, “If you like surprises, wait until you see what I’ve got going on in the Grim.” Sonic responds with, “Grim? Cool. Can’t wait to here more. But right now, we’ve gotta get to Ghost Hill.” Talking as if if the Grim was an afterthought. Then the two talk about bringing the prism back together without knowing what the other’s thoughts were behind it.

Even if they didn’t have time to discuss things, I think they should’ve explained something to each other during the chase or before Sonic left to help the Rebels in S1. That way the unfortunate occurrence could’ve been avoided later on, but we’ll cross that bridge soon enough. Anyways, after the goose chase, they meet up with Shadow, who reasonably doesn’t trust Nine.

-The Blue blur defended the fox again with his projecting his friends onto strangers self. It’s also weird how often this dude doesn’t listen to anyone while also wondering why no one won’t listen to him.

After Nine put one of the shards back together and it brought everything back for a split second. Sonic: “Reality was flipping out over here.” “Green Hill was back and so were my friends.” Which must’ve went in and out of Nine’s ears because this show has no time for the characters to communicate properly. Instead of listening, Nine interrupts the hedgehog and shenanigans ensues.

After said shenanigans, another argument scene happens. Except somehow, it’s worsts then the last. I’ll criticize both characters. I want to address the “Sonic projecting” discussion first. I know people think Sonic’s wrong for doing it (he is) but I believe he’s doing it as a coping mechanism. Since his friends are replaced by ghost who repeat themselves and a bunch strangers who look like them, he might not be able to help it. I give him a bit of slack because we all know what he’s been through. Prime!Sonic is also a very sincere version of Sonic who instantly feels guilt. Even if he doesn’t completely understand what he did wrong.

For example, in the first episode, Tails didn’t tell Sonic why he was upset with him. He just said, “It’s cool really.” Tails brushes things off instead of discussing them. I can see where Sonic is coming from. What I won’t excuse is Sonic having a terrible amount of trust in Nine. I’ll discuss this in S3’s issues. And the rest I’ll summon up to Sonic never addressing problems which might’ve needed to be addressed. Like Green Hill almost coming back and other stuff I’ve already mentioned. Onto the fox. This argument might be a great time for Nine to explain what his plans are instead of saying, “We’re not making your old world. We’re building a better one.” Implying Sonic’s original world is inferior and he should deal with it being gone.

When Sonic says, “I think we can get it back.” Nine responds with, “You’re wrong about that.” Despite Sonic in the same episode said minutes before, “Green Hill was back and so were my friends.” Did the fox forget? Is he lying? Or does he not care? I’ll go with the writers forgetting about this line since it never gets mentioned again. Which seems to be a trope in this show. I understand Sonic’s done plenty of wrong when it comes to Nine as well, but I don’t see how Sonic wanting to fix the problem he made in the first place as selfish. Especially since Sonic’s not the only one who wants Green Hill back. Shadow’s dealing with the consequences too.

The “what’ll happen to me when you bring your friends back,” issue is never explored. There’s no confirmation on what happens, so this comment basically means nothing. Also, Sonic living with Nine forever is messed up. It implies Sonic and Shadow never going home. And their friends would stay ghost forever. Dead to be specific. Not to mention Nine’s home would be a copy of what Sonic use to have. You’re telling me Sonic The Hedgehog would allow his freedom to end because of a self centered fox who wouldn’t care if he wanted to go home? I could continue, but I’ll stop here. In the end, Sonic and Nine were both wrong. You could argue Sonic never said “no” to staying with Nine, but Sonic saying in S1,”It’s not going anywhere,” was all Nine needed to hear. Sonic thinking Nine would love Tails and discussing Green Hill was prominent when talking to Nine before getting to Ghost Hill too. Dude was completely set on getting home and he wasn’t subtle about it.

To be fair again, Nine hasn’t been in enough good relationships to know who to trust Then finds someone he thinks he can trust. Then gets treated like a reflection of someone else instead of a different person entirely. This goes to show I actually don’t hate the idea of the miscommunication. I only feel the show doesn’t give them enough time to breathe and only focuses on rushing the plot. Therefore having contradictions and forced conflicts.

Season 3

Nine’s first statement in this season is, “This could’ve been everything he ever wanted.” I wish Sonic had a moment to explain why creating a new world is a nice but bad idea. That way Nine could get a better understanding of how close Sonic is to his home and friends. Giving it a sense of importance.He could choose to stay selfish or to be reasonable.Nine tries to capture Sonic in order to get his shard energy throughout S3. In the next scene Shadow says, “So, it was all about power?” (Shadow is the MVP of this entire show) Then Sonic defends Nine for the millionth time.

Sonic: “No, that’s not…” Nine: “Exactly!” Wonderful.

Moving on. Sonic tries to reason with Nine again. Nine: “You were only using me to get what you wanted.” Sonic: “That’s not true.” The hedgehog doesn’t elaborate before or after this conversation. I love how the two barely have a coherent conversation. It’s honestly my favorite thing in the world.

-Sonic tells Shadow if reasoning with Nine doesn’t work, he’ll be “their’s.” Probably implying they’ll have to hurt or kill Nine if necessary. Then Sonic never fallows through with it and doesn’t actually fight Nine. Sonic only uses his shield powers or tries to convince others not to hurt the fox.

After that Nine tries to attack both hedgehogs with a robot copy of Sonic and states, “This time, you’re on your own.” Shadow: “He’s not on his own” Nine: “We’re all on our own.” Describing his perception on loyalty is a detail I actually like.

Later in the season Nine tries to disrupt the bystanders worlds to get Sonic, so they disrupt their agreement. Nine attempts to kill them again and wonders why they wanted to protect Sonic. Almost as if Sonic has been helping them since the fox met him or something.

After constant fighting and begging on Sonic’s part, he tells Nine to, “LOOK OUTSIDE!” And that’s when Nine at last sees the shatterverse breaking and realizes what he’s done. All of this mess lasted 7 episodes by the way. The big fight took up 6 of them. Nine knew beforehand the shatterverse was ending and it didn’t phase him as long as his world was safe. Now he suddenly he feels guilty?

Sonic apologizes because he didn’t listen to what Nine wanted. Or appreciate what he was trying to do. This is Sonic’s words not mine. Nine doesn’t apologize for trying to kill everyone, but to Sonic instead. Sonic asked everyone to leave Nine alone. And asked Nine to not cause anymore trouble. Knucks: “How can we trust him?” Nine: “You can trust me.” Outstanding dialogue. Plot needs to occur, so we’ll skip the part where Nine and everyone else gains trust in a none forced way. Great.

Nine finally helps Sonic even if those problems could’ve been avoided a few episodes earlier and say their goodbyes. The End.

I hate how Sonic had to apologize to Nine about wanting to go home. It’s absolutely unfair. Then Nine doesn’t apologize to everyone else for the havoc he’s caused. What I believe Sonic should’ve apologized for was treating Nine like Tails, but it never gets brought up. But my biggest issue is the only way Sonic called out Nine on his actions was by saying, “This isn’t you!” “Don’t do this!” “ “I care about all of this. You, the shatterverse, and everyone inside of it. I know you do to.” The last bit being a huge lie.

I don’t make these kind of comparisons often, but Game!Sonic would have everything nipped in the bud. I’d assume by telling Nine, “What you’re doing is wrong. This is why it’s wrong. If you don’t quit, I’ll do everything in my power to make you quit.” He’d understand Nine needed to be stoped and act accordingly. I’d assume everyone would have to make him surrender and he’d be force to fix everything. No, it doesn’t reform him, but I wouldn’t have minded if he didn’t get reformed because sometimes you can’t change people. This might not have been the perfect solution, but I tried. Yes, Nine is a child who was treated terribly, but it shouldn’t excuse his actions.

What’s hilarious is during his last talk with Sonic, he unreasonably guilts the hedgehog and called him selfish. Saying Sonic didn’t save everyone because he actually cared about them. But because Sonic feels guilty about breaking everything from the start. Except Sonic actually admits to messing up which was shown in the third episode of Prime. And took the time to right his wrongs. It’s the most hypocritical and short sided statement in the entire show. And if that wasn’t enough, Nine gets upset when everyone came to attack him. It admittedly was a dumb idea, but Nine made himself the enemy. He didn’t give the gang a reason to trust him before or after his deal with Sonic. Yes, including the end of the show. It made no sense.

Why Nine’s Reformation Was Rushed

First of all, I’m not saying I don’t like Nine because of his negative traits. That’s the main reason he exists. He’s a antagonistic or I’d even say evil version of Tails. Nine is suppose to be distant, selfish, and such. I simply don’t believe after all he’s done and how his character was established that he suddenly changed into a good guy.

Nine’s focus was on his own pain. As he ignored everyone else’s. Including the one person who saved his life on multiple occasions and who (even if it’s wrong) still tried to stick up for him. Giving off the, “I suffered so everyone else should suffer,” mentality. Then blames Sonic by saying he, “put him into this position.” As if Nine didn’t already make terrible choices before going evil. Sure, the shards could’ve been corrupting him, but it’s never explored and can only be assumed. Which are too different things.

These are obvious toxic/red flag behavior and it never gets properly called out. Things are only fixed because the plot demanded it. Not because there was a natural progression. The only thing that progressed was Nine’s uncaring attitude until it magically fixed itself…at the last minute. And I hate that for him because he deserved better. Sonic deserved better. All of the Sonic Prime characters deserved better. But they all fell into the pit of unsatisfying conclusions.

Side Note: What also bothers me is how Sonic is almost the only character Nine interacts with. No wonder he doesn’t care about anyone else. Nine barely talks to anyone. Like Shadow, the blue blur is the main center of Nine’s attention. At least most of the other characters don’t have the same problem, but it’s still ridiculous.

How The Show Is Flawed In General

I have more glaring issues with this show. Sonic Prime’s plot almost never stops to breathe. The repetition is unreal. None of the characters (especially the OGs) get enough attention. Some things are both over and under explained simultaneously. There’s reused animations.

Reused conversations and dialogue are especially prevalent. “This isn’t you, Nine!” “It’s over, Nine.” “Gotta go fast!” “Game over.” “We’re gonna end/fix this together.” “We’re friends.” “Me Beauty.” “We have to take the fight to them.” “You’re even dumber then you look.”

This isn’t half of the repeated lines unfortunately. Some of them aren’t only said by Sonic either. It’s almost as if they ran out of dialogue. I am only scratching the surface of problems, but I won’t go any further. At this point “the show’s writing” is the main issue of Nine’s arc. It’s also why other parts of Prime feels rushed.

Conclusion

Yeah, I have a love hate relationship with this show. It’s seriously hard to watch sometimes. I know this has been a bummer, but here’s what Sonic Prime does right. I adore Sonic Prime in terms of how it looks and sounds. With the outstanding animation, voice acting, music, editing, and sound design. I’ll even say it’s one of the best looking 3D animated kids TV shows I’ve seen. There’s so much attention to detail and quality of the character facial expressions and movements. Furthermore, when the lighting is really good, it looks near movie levels of quality. Not to mention great writing still exists. All in all, Sonic Prime may not be the best written Sonic show, but it does have the most polished animation. Even with its plethora of flaws and lost potential, I’m glad Prime exists to prove 3D TV shows can look fantastic when given enough care.

Stay Creative! 💜

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chelseachilly · 9 months

Text

til you come back home

pairing: reader x ben chilwell summary: you really miss your boyfriend while he’s in the US for preseason, so you decide to give him a special surprise when he returns ;) warnings: smut, 18+ word count: 3.1k

author’s note: thanks for the request @a-little-bit-rascal ! also inspired by everyone (myself included) thirsting over all the ben content in preseason lmao. i hope this is something like what you had in mind ☺️ i’m not super experienced writing smut so bear with me but i hope people enjoy this, i have a couple more one-shots i’ll be working on in addition to the next chapter of this love. oh and the title is from i don’t wanna live forever by taylor & zayn

Not to be too dramatic, but you’re pretty sure the two weeks Ben is away in the US for the preseason tour are the longest of your life.

You’ve been with Ben for a little over a year now, and you’ve always found him incredibly attractive. From the moment you saw him at a mutual friend’s party, you were drawn to him. It only took you one drink to decide that you wanted to sleep with him, and two more to actually go for it.

You’re very grateful you didn’t ask him what he does for a living until after he shagged you in your friend’s guest room, as you may have chickened out if you knew he was a hotshot footballer. And also because Ben found it incredibly endearing when you complimented his toned body afterward and asked if he played any sports in his free time.

A few days later, when he finally used the number you gave him and called you up, you were somewhat expecting it to be a booty call. The sex had been great, for both of you, so you weren’t totally surprised by that. You were surprised when he asked you to go to dinner first.

The rest was history, as you found it to be just as easy to fall in love with Ben Chilwell as it was to fall into bed with him.

Your sex life has never wavered since that first date, except for when he’s been away for games or injured and under doctor’s orders not to engage in any physical activities - though he certainly still tried.

Even after all this time, Ben still has a power over you that no guy ever has, the ability to make you crumble with one look from his piercing eyes or the touch of his hand on your thigh.

Which is why it’s incredibly frustrating when he’s looking so fit and he’s thousands of miles away in stupid America.

He’s been looking particularly good recently, and you’re not sure if it’s his tan from the summer holiday, the way his hair has grown out a bit, the extra time he’s been putting in at the gym, or maybe even the confidence he’s getting back after a tough season. Regardless of what it is, it’s really making it challenging to be apart from him.

Every time the Chelsea Instagram posts a picture of him training or he FaceTimes you from his hotel room, you find it increasingly hard not to drop everything at work and just fly to the States immediately.

Watching him play in the match against Wrexham, when he scores a goal in the 94th minute wearing the captain’s arm brand and proceeds to tear off his shirt on live television, nearly makes you scream out of sheer frustration.

How dare your boyfriend be so hot when you can’t immediately have him?

By the time the tour is over and they’re set to return to London, you’re bursting at the seams with pent-up desire. They’re supposed to land in London around eight that evening, and the thought of waiting for him to get through customs, take the team bus to Cobham, then get an Uber to your flat feels torturous.

As soon as Ben texts you that they’re about to take off and that he‘ll be at yours by ten, you decide you can’t wait that long.

You know they’re flying into Stansted, so you whip out your laptop and your credit card and book a room at the nicest airport hotel you can find.

You’re not only eager to finally touch Ben and have your way with him after two long weeks apart, but also to show him how proud you are of him. Despite all the adversity he’s faced over the past couple of years, he’s going into the new season with a positive attitude. He’s not only playing well, he’s taking on more of a leadership role within the club and showing everyone just how crucial he is to their success.

So you’re determined to make your reunion romantic and special for him as well, taking the opportunity to treat your boyfriend before another intense season.

You head over to the hotel in advance to set up the room for him, pulling out all the stops - champagne, rose petals on the bed, candles. You have a romantic playlist ready filled with songs you both love. Ben has frequently shown his love for you with romantic gestures, whether it be whisking you to Paris for a weekend or surprising you with fancy dinners, so you’re excited to be returning the favour for a change.

As their arrival time approaches, you head over to the airport and wait for him.

It seems to take ages, but eventually you see some of the boys begin to trickle in and your heart thumps with anticipation.

A few of the guys who you know well stop to smile and say hello to you on their way to the bus, all clearly a bit surprised to see you there.

“Hey, Y/N!” Reece says with a grin as he passes you. “Does Ben know you’re here?”

“No, it’s a surprise,” you say a bit sheepishly.

“He’s gonna lose his mind,” Reece chuckles. “Bro hasn’t shut up about you the entire time we were in the States-“

“Y/N?”

You look over Reece’s shoulder to see Ben standing there, luggage in hand, looking absolutely awestruck.

He’s wearing his club t-shirt and joggers, and his hair is a bit messy from napping on the plane. He looks adorable, especially his bright smile that only seems to be growing with every second that he looks at you.

You begin to run toward him on instinct and he barely has time to drop his bag before you’re throwing your arms around him and he’s catching you.

Ben’s arms wrap around your waist and he lifts you off the ground for a moment, spinning you around slightly with unbridled joy. It feels so good to be in his arms again, his warmth enveloping you.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Ben murmurs in your hair, pressing kisses to your shoulder. “How - I mean, why are you here? You didn’t have to pick me up from the airport.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” you say with a smile, pulling back to look at him and cup his face with both hands. “I missed you like crazy.”

Ben stares back at you for a moment, his eyes overflowing with affection, before leaning in to press a long overdue kiss to your lips. You sigh into the kiss and slide your fingers into his hair, tugging at it slightly.

“Best surprise ever,” Ben murmurs against your lips before deepening the kiss.

You continue to kiss him until you’re both out of air and you realize you can’t go any further in a busy airport surrounded by his teammates.

“Let’s go home,” Ben whispers, pecking your lips once more. “Did you drive?”

“Mhm, but I actually have another surprise for you,” you smirk, patting his cheek. “I got us a room at the Raddison across the street.” You lower your voice slightly. “So I can show you how much I missed you.”

Ben’s eyes light up as he realizes he’s going to get to have you a lot sooner than he thought, and he leans in to kiss you again.

“You’re amazing.”

Ben says goodbye to the boys, receiving a lot of knowing smirks and pats on the back before he hastily grabs his suitcase and your hand and begins to drag you away.

You both quickly make your way over to the hotel, holding hands tightly, filled with anticipation.

When you get to your room, you barely make it through the door before Ben is pushing up up against it and kissing you firmly, his bags discarded on the floor and his arms around your waist.

“I missed you so much,” he sighs against your mouth as you eagerly respond, your hands once again finding his fluffy hair and messing it up even more. “I missed this.”

“Imagine how I felt,” you say between kisses. “Having to watch you be all sexy on TV and you posting all those thirst traps on Insta-“

“Babe, they’re not thirst traps,” Ben defends, slipping his hand under your jumper so he can feel your bare skin.

“Well, it‘s still not fair for you to be looking so fit when I’m not able to have sex with you,” you whine, tugging at his shirt so he’ll get the message and take it off.

Once Ben has removed his shirt, you allow both your eyes and your hands to explore his toned shoulders and arms, gently squeezing his biceps.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Ben says with a small smile as he watches you check him out. “What’s my punishment?”

“I’m not going to punish you,” you say with a sly smile, pecking his lips once more before backing away from him, making him pout a bit at the loss of contact. “You’re getting rewarded tonight, Benjamin.”

“For the wins?” Ben asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“That, and for finally getting your arse home to me,” you smile, reaching out a hand for him to follow you further into the room.

Ben eagerly follows, his eyes lighting up once again when he sees the effort you’ve gone to for your little reunion celebration.

“I get all this just for coming home?” he asks, his voice thick with emotion and his eyes shining with awe.

You shake your head as you light a few of the candles and hit play on your Spotify, creating an even more romantic atmosphere.

“No, you get all this because I love you,” you say softly, shimmying out of the light sundress you were wearing to reveal his favourite black lingerie set. “This is what you get for coming home.“

Ben’s eyes darken and he wastes no time crossing the room to meet you, grabbing your waist and kissing you with such fervour that you immediately moan into his mouth.

His hands trail down to your butt and squeeze slightly before gripping your thighs and hoisting you up into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist and the friction making both of you sigh with pleasure.

He carries you over to the bed, the rose petals scattering as he lays you down and begins hastily removing his joggers. When he’s in only his boxers, he climbs over you and kisses you again.

The sight of him hovering over you, his strong arms holding him up and his fluffy hair in his forehead as he meets your gaze is enough to make you melt into the duvet, your centre already burning with desire.

“What do you want, baby?” you breathe as he begins to trail kisses over your neck and collarbone. “It’s up to you tonight.”

“I wanna fuck you,” Ben says in a gravelly whisper, making you throb even more for him. “Been too long.”

“Then do it,” you reply, bucking your hips upward, desperate for friction.

Ben doesn’t have to be told twice - he immediately brings one of his hands down to touch you over your underwear. He strokes the fabric for a second before slipping his fingers underneath and feeling your folds.

“So wet for me already, love,” Ben murmurs as he begins to rub your clit with his thumb, making you moan.

It doesn’t last nearly long enough before he’s pulling away, and though you want him inside you more than anything right now, you can’t help but whine a bit.

“Patience, baby girl,” Ben says, stripping off your knickers and tossing them to the floor.

He abruptly sits up, pulling you with him so you’re sitting in his lap, and kissing you passionately. You can now feel his hardened cock through his briefs against your bare pussy and it’s becoming torturous to go another second without him inside you.

“Ben,” you breathe between kisses. “Need you.”

“I thought I was in charge?” Ben comments, reaching for your bra clasp and removing it in one swift movement.

“You are, but-“

You’re shut up quickly when Ben takes one of your nipples in his mouth and sucks on it teasingly, making your eyes shut tightly with pleasure.

You run your hands through his hair as he pays attention to your breasts that he so clearly missed, eventually trailing his kisses back up your chest and to your lips.

You kiss him hungrily, tugging at his hair a bit and exploring his mouth with your tongue.

Much less gently than before, Ben flips you over and presses you down against the bed, continuing to kiss you as he finally rids himself of his boxers.

Glancing down at you, now laid out on the comfortable mattress completely naked with your hair fanned out against the pillows, Ben takes a moment to catch his breath.

“You’re fucking unreal,” he exhales, dropping another kiss to your lips. “So beautiful.”

You blush a bit - of course Ben could find a way to fluster you with his words even as you’re moments away from him being inside you.

You kiss him once more before reaching down to take his length in your hand, and it’s already hardened enough that it only takes a few pumps of your hand before he’s fully erect for you.

He positions himself at your entrance and, despite both of your eagerness, waits for your small nod of confirmation as always before he sinks down into you.

You gasp and Ben lets out a low groan as he enters you fully, and he has to pause and hide his face in your neck for a moment to regain control before he begins thrusting into you.

You’re aware that two weeks isn’t that long, but it certainly feels like it’s been ages since you’ve done this. The two of you have a very healthy sex life, engaging in some kind of sexual activity nearly every day unless you’re both exhausted or Ben’s away for a game or something.

The pleasure begins to grow as Ben starts to pick up the pace and intensity of his thrusts, both of your sighs and groans mingling together.

“You feel so good, baby,” Ben says as he reaches up to tangle your fingers together, squeezing tightly. “Missed you so much.”

“I missed you more,” you sigh. “Had to get myself off after I watched you score that goal. Missed our tradition.”

It’s become a tradition since you’ve been together that you and Ben have celebratory sex after he scores a goal - as quickly as possible. Sometimes you have to wait until you get home, other times it’s happened in empty rooms at Stamford Bridge or even his car once.

“Fuck, so did I,” Ben groans, thrusting a bit harder this time and making you cry out. “Wasn’t as good, though. Nothing’s ever as good without you there.”

As Ben starts to go faster, you wrap your legs around his waist to shift the angle and get him as deep as possible, making both of you see stars as you’re approaching your climax.

“I wanna cum with you, baby,” Ben breathes, “are you close?”

“Mhm,” you manage to choke out as Ben’s cock hits a sensitive spot inside you.

Ben reaches down and lightly massages your clit with his thumb before thrusting into you once more.

The combination of him stimulating you and burying himself deep inside you makes you lose control, and you cry out his name as feel yourself coming all around him.

Ben is just moments behind you as he pushes into you one more time then crumbles with a low groan, collapsing on top of you.

You stroke his hair as you both come down from your climax, Ben pressing soft kisses to your collarbone.

“I love you so much,” Ben murmurs against your skin, sending a new wave of goosebumps across your body.

“I love you too, Ben,” you whisper, kissing his forehead.

Eventually your bodies stop twitching with reverberated waves of pleasure and Ben gently pulls out of you, leaving you with a peck to the cheek as he quickly runs to the bathroom to get a washcloth and clean you both up.

After you’ve sorted yourselves, Ben climbs back under the covers and opens his arms wide for you to climb into. You happily curl up against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around you, and you think you may have missed this almost as much as the sex.

“I hope you know you’ve set my expectations for coming home unreasonably high,” Ben jokes as he strokes your bare back with one hand. “I’m gonna need you to pick me up at the airport every time now.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” you respond sincerely, kissing his chest a few times. “Have I mentioned I missed you?”

“Once or twice,” he laughs, tilting your chin up for another long, tender kiss that makes your toes curl and your heart soar. “I missed you too. I’m so glad we have tomorrow off. We have a lot to catch up on.”

“That’s true, we still haven’t finished the new episodes of The Bear-“

“I meant sex, sweetheart, but that too,” Ben chuckles, “and loads of cuddles. It was so hard sleeping without you while I was gone.”

“I know,” you sigh, burrowing impossibly closer to him and his warmth. “My bed was too cold without you.”

You rest in silence for a few minutes, enjoying the feeling of Ben’s embrace, before resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

“You ready for round two already, darling?” Ben asks with a relaxed smile, brushing his nose against yours.

Without a reply, you slip out of his arms and walk over to pour each of you a glass of champagne, still fully unclothed. Ben’s eyes remain fixed to your body the entire time.

When you walk right past the bed, Ben whines a bit and you can already picture his puppy dog eyes before you turn back around to face him.

“Where are you going?” Ben complains.

“I need a shower,” you say nonchalantly, taking a sip from your glass. “You ready for part two of your reward?”

Ben’s eyes nearly roll back in his head as he rushes to get out of bed comically fast, following you into the bathroom as you giggle at his excitement.

You realize later, after you’ve sucked his dick in the shower and he’s returned the favour back in bed, that you may have sent him the wrong message by rewarding him for driving you mad while he was gone, but oh well.

You’ve got a girls trip to Capri coming up in a few weeks, and you can think of a few ways to get your revenge.

thank you for reading!! also let me know if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for any future ben fics! 💕

#ben chilwell #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell x y/n #ben chilwell imagine #chelsea fc imagine #my fics

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socialshakespeare · 1 month

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With you guys doing Hamlet as your play your reading this month, it aligns with my performance of Hamlet (and so sadly couldn’t read in) but I thought I’d share some tidbits from this performance:

- there are two Hamlets as Hamlet speaks so much, they do share To Be or Not To Be and it’s glorious - Both Hamlets are played by queer women. As a result, Hamlet is by no means straight. It’s been agreed in the cast that Hamlet has slept with Laertes, Horatio, Ophelia, Rosencrantz, and Guildenstern. - The ghost speaks through the tannoy system - Claudius and Gertrude first entrance is to Donna Summer’s Hot Stuff. They have a choreographed dance number too. - We only have one prop knife. It is known as “the communal dagger” since it’s used by Both Hamlets, Laertes, and Guildenstern. Not all at once thankfully. - Speaking of Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, they’re both being played as frat bros. Claudius can’t tell them apart. - The dumb show is done with masks and a paper crown made out of the script. - Instead of The Mousetrap, Hamlet recites a poem (one the actor wrote herself) with heavy bass playing while Horatio stares down Claudius menacingly. - Hamlet also gets a sick recorder solo. Or at least it would be sick, but she can’t play the recorder. - During one scene, Hamlet gets tied up and dragged onstage by Guildenstern. She also runs off and Guildenstern has to make chase - The gravedigger is Icelandic and they sing the songs in Icelandic. - Yorick’s skull does not exist. Hamlet mimes holding one. - Ophelia also doesn’t have a grave. But Laertes and Hamlet fight in top of her regardless. - Hamlet and Laertes don’t fence. They play the Wii instead. We still have Hamlet’s line of “Since he went into France I have been in continual practice.” So it just sounds like he’s been playing games while he’s been mad. - The communal dagger makes its return. However the idea was floated around that instead it would be a poisoned Wii remote. - And finally and most importantly: Hamlet dies in Horatio’s arms. When she does, Horatio collapses on her dead body out of pure grief.

It’s been overall a fun performance to be a part of and I thought you’d enjoy these little notes.

- from Emi

#submission

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bonebrokebuddy · 2 years

Note

Can you please do 13 if no one else has already :D

OH HOHO THIS IS A GOOD ONE

13) “You mean, you Don’t actually look human?!”

————

Kryptonians canonically have telepathic abilities or at the very least psionic abilities. We’ve talked about the ridiculousness of the silver age catch-all of Super-Hypnosis that Clark would use to make people forget his identity.

It’s one of the explanations DC made to explain why only a simple pair of eyeglasses made such a perfect disguise for Clark Kent the mild-mannered reporter, so no one would suspect he was Superman. Because in Superman # 330, Superman apparently unconsciously hypnotizes everyone who looks at him to making them believe that his face is different than Clark Kent’s.

This has absofuckinglutley been retconned out of existence since but consider, this helps with a fun concept and I also do not care because at one point it was cannon so that means I’m right.

Consider: It’s not just used for disguising reasons.

If it can influence how people perceive kryptonians look, maybe it could also influence people into thinking they looked more human than they actually did.

Now, one thing that’s repeated again and again in Kryptonian society is that they are upheld to the high standard of being at the “peak of physical and mental perfection.”

So, what if this mentality of needing to look at the expectation of physical perfection also transferred unconsciously?

And Because Clark does this unconsciously, that would mean that he looks just a little different to every single person who ever looked at him. So, everyone would see Superman as more of their standards of what they think “physical perfection” means. Now, this would:

Result in literally every person thinking that Superman is ridiculously attractive (this includes ace folks. I’m ace. Doesn’t mean I can’t look at someone and go “they’re hot.” because again, personal idea of physical perfection.)

Would be a great intro into a fun side plot of Jimmy being the definitive Superman photographer because not only did he get the first clear photo of Superman, the telekinetic perception doesn’t fully transfer digitally. In a true “eye of the beholder” fashion, whoever takes the image sets the image how they perceive it. So as Jimmy is the one who showed the world their first image of Superman, Jimmy’s perception of Superman would eventually become The Definitive View Of Superman as it’s just what people would expect Kal-El to look like & so his Superman form would eventually settle into the same form he took in Jimmy’s first few photos.

But that’s just when he’s in his Superman persona. When he’s Clark Kent, he is his own perception of what an “average human” looks like. His frame is still very tall & wide (I mean, there’s no getting around that. have you seen how they draw the guy? His shoulders are a mile long) but it’s filled out in a way that looks very natural for a farm boy from Kansas. Like one of those guys who don’t work out but regardless are fairly muscular & look like they can lift a cow. It so depending on the circumstance Clark looks like a gentle giant who everyone in the office asks to help them lift heavy objects or very intimidating when interrogating a corrupt CEO during an interview, using his height and large frame to tower over them in a looming manner.

In both forms he keeps the eye color, hair color, and rough build because otherwise it would look like he was clipping through objects to onlookers.

As this is an unconscious process, even Clark doesn’t know he’s doing it. He kinda knows in the back of his head but it’s just not something he’s ever registered with conscious thought.

With that in mind:

- The Justice League gets captured by a big bad.

- In addition to other security measures to prevent them from escaping, there is a machine that, while in range of it, it creates a mental block for telepaths and psionic abilities on influencing others. It is intended so J’onn cannot find the hidden location of the Justice League to free them.

- But that’s not the only effect it had.

- Suddenly Bruce is able to see what Clark Actually looks like

- But not just Bruce, Everyone in the Justice League that was trapped (take your pick of who) is now able to see the unnaturally saturated blue eyes in their real hue for the first time

- They are so bright that a camera nor any human technology or earthly pigment would ever be able to reproduce or fully capture the piercing shade of blue that stared straight through their being.

- And his too many perfectly straight and white teeth

- His eyes that now look too large to naturally sit on a human-reminiscent face

- Clark’s brow furrowed when he noticed everyone staring at him. the hinge of his jaw opened wider than what a human’s limitations would allow when he went to ask what was wrong

- the base of his voice is still just a touch too loud

-but underneath his voice is an unearthly booming quality with base just out of human perception but it still sent shivers down their spines as it resonated with the frequency of the room

- The tendons shifting under his skin bulge and twist in ways that seem like they shouldn’t fit under his skin and the placement of muscle groups visible under his suit looked like someone tried to reassemble a human from memory

- His features are just suddenly. Off. Distinctly something other.

The mental mask falls away and the Justice League is able to see the slight wrongness about clark.

It's not the fact that he's a alien that makes their necks prickle, it's the age old instinct of something that looks enough like a human but you just know it's not.

And the ensuing chaos Would Be Fucking Amazing

Because, again, Clark Himself Doesn't Know He’s Doing It.

Addon that I was going to branch off of but decided to leave out of the final cut:

I feel like Bruce would honestly be relieved. It would answer a ton of his questions. Especially seen in Anatomy of a Metahuman, Bruce expresses extreme bafflement over How The Fuck Clark is so human-like despite being an alien. The fact that this would confirm his existing theory littered in small notes on the sides of his drawings in that book that Clark uses some kind of psionics for his powers, would be a huge relief because he finally has answers to how Clark works. Now he can apply proper adjustments to his contingency plans to account for this new discovery.

I just really enjoy the idea that Clark only looks human at first glance but when you take a moment to look at him closely, you can tell that something’s distinctly off about the guy.

#dc #superman #clark kent #dc comics #justice league #Batman #bruce wayne #kryptonian biology #bones replies #bones writes #ty twin <3 #superbat #or at least you absolutley could spin it as superbat #writing promots #dc writing prompt #prompt #alien biology

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firstkanaphans · 4 days

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SMASH or PASS: GMMTV 2024, Part 2

Ossan’s Love: Based on the trailer we were given, PASS. However, I will watch this one regardless because it’s EarthMix and I have hope that the actual show will be a bit less cringe because P’Au is directing it and we know from MSP that he can do romantic comedy well. Unfortunately, I have not seen the original and this particular trailer made me never want to.

Leap Day: PASS. Not even an autistic-coded Gun Attaphan could save this one for me. But good for Pond! This is a huge role for him.

The Heart Killers: Obviously, SMASH. I know people are saying this feels like SandRay 2.0, but I’m getting more YokGaipa vibes and I am living for it. You can read my full review here, but I just want to go on record once again and say how grateful I am that FK got an adult show with an adult plot and a queer director.

Friendshit Forever: SMASH. It’s giving me Cruel Intention vibes and if they let Mook and Pat make out at least once, I’ll send them a fruit basket.

Perfect10 Liners: PASS. If I never hear the words “Engineer Cute Boy page” again, it will be too soon.

Us: SMASH. Both Bonnie AND Emi make my brain go brrr, so I can’t promise I’ll be able to produce any coherent content about it, but I will be eagerly watching.

Hide & Sis: SMASH. This looks amazing and I loved P.S. I Hate You, so I’m expecting great things. Plus, Lookjun and Pepper finally get to work together! I’m so happy for them.

Thame-Po: SMASH. I know nothing about LYKN, but I enjoyed the trailer and I think it’s a great way for GMMTV to market their musical artists. Don’t think it’s going to help with people IRL shipping Est and William, though.

Break-up Service: lol, PASS.

Revamp the Undead Story: I will watch it because it is Boun’s baby and I love him, but in general, vampire shows only interest me if they’re slutty and I’m not sure GMMTV is going to allow that. So…PASS?

Sweet Tooth, Good Dentist: Genuinely, I didn’t think there was anything that could make Mark Pakin unattractive to me, but they somehow managed it. That trailer was just weird. Ohm TPK is way too green to be leading a BL and I didn’t sense any chemistry between him and Mark. I hope the show's good for Mark’s sake, but my expectations are not high. PASS.

The Dark Dice: I think I might have to wait until the actual trailer for this one, but tentatively SMASH. The problem is that I’m not a huge fan of Prom or Prim, so I would be watching exclusively for Gemini.

The Ex-Morning: Y’all, I’m still drooling over Singto in that fucking trailer. I’m sorry, but he looks hot as fuck. I’d SMASH for him alone. This was by far my favorite plot of the night. I love me a good rom-com and since this one’s being written by P’Aof (and none of the characters are blind), I trust him.

Overall, I thought this was a much better line-up than Part 1 and I'm excited for what's coming!

EDIT: I forgot Scarlet Heart Thailand, which I guess makes my opinion obvious. It's a PASS. If I was a woman surrounded by that many men, I would run. That's a horror movie, not a love story. And even without knowing anything, I guarantee she's going to end up with Win. Because someone at GMMTV thinks he's hot or whatever.

#gmmtv 2024 #gmmtv 2024 part 2 #i'm begging them to rename some of these shows though #sweet tooth good dentist???

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myfandomprompts · 8 months

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𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐑𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 | 𝐓𝐨𝐦 𝐁𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐭 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝟕)

Summary: Close to the line, you have to find a way on the other side. The time where you and Tom will have to part approaches.

Previous Part - Masterlist

Warnings: none.

French spoken -> italics

Tom clutched his jacket around his shoulders, forced to notice that summer nights in France were as unforgiving as they were in England; the humidity falling on their skins sending chills through his spine.

The jacket still smelled like whatever bleach they used at the hospital back in Paris, and the packets inside his pockets only had a few cigarettes left. He had been keeping count, its number diminishing as they approached the crossing line, and the only one he didn’t regret losing was the one he had given you.

“You look like a ghost,” he remarked, eyes on your pale face emphasised by the white light of the moon that shone on the dirt track they were currently walking on. Your eyes were aimlessly looking at the ground and the shawl around your shoulder gave you a mystical aura that had him fascinated.

But regardless how spellbound he was, Tom was genuinely still worried about you.

“Hum… Thank you?” you answered, tilting your head in his direction, making him smile internally.

Oh, don’t worry, love, you still look bloody beautiful.

“Have you had some water?” Henriette asked at your side as she extended her gourd to you.

You contemplated the object before taking it. “Damn, I would kill for some hot tea right now,” you muttered before taking several sips of the freezing liquid before wiping your lips with the back of your hand. They were a lovely shade of pink and Tom noticed that it contrasted with the paleness of your face beautifully.

“I heard German tea’s not that bad,” he said after a moment, putting his hands in his pockets with a teasing smile.

Both women looked at him and scowled, making him grin wider. “I’m joking…They got good beer, though.”

Henriette shook her head in exasperation while you met his eyes, a small smile on your lips as you watched him with a glint of forbidden amusement. Yep, breathtaking.

Albert and Giulia walked in front of them, deep in conversation that had been going on since they left the factory and when the first lights of the morning pierced the sky, Tom barely noticed Albert slow down to walk at his pace while you walked further ahead. “So, you… in Dunkerque?”

Tom lifted his head in surprise, wondering how the conversation would go with both of them not exactly speaking each other’s language. The only French Tom had picked up from his time in this country were the words for water, car, bread and German.

Nothing that would help him with your brother at the moment. “Yeah. Evacuated and all, a mess.”

Albert seemed to understand. “Tiré… You shot?” he continued, flattening his fist over his own shoulder before pointing at Tom’s.

“Yeah, shot by a bloody chaser. Stuka,” he clarified when he saw Albert frown in incomprehension.

The latter only nodded at the known word before lowering his hand over his thigh. “Me too, shot. But less… courageux. I ran from German when come here, they shot us. Bullet hit a little,” he added as he tapped the fabric of his trousers pensively. “One friend… didn’t survive.”

They fell in a respectful silence, Albert’s expression turning melancholic while they reminisced about what they had lost. Tom saw images of a hand extended to him amidst flashing red lights, followed by a face, half burned, lying on the deck, dead. The face that belonged to the hand he didn’t take. A strong feeling of guilt burned his tongue, the memory of Vic rendering his throat sour.

Once they’re gone, they’re gone, you should make it right when you can.

“You have sister, brother?”

“A sister, Lois,” Tom answered a little more brightly as the dreadful images disappeared, replaced by his sister’s big blue eyes warming his chest. “Hell of a singer.”

Albert paused for a moment to understand the last word before nodding again. “So you understand. What it is, to be… protective of sister.”

Tom’s head snapped up, meeting Albert’s stern gaze. “Uh… Yeah, I don’t know. She never really needed anything of me… Older sister and all, I guess.”

Your brother feigned to understand before keeping on, pointing at you walking in front of them. “Y/N, little sister to me. Protect her,” he assured as he witnessed Tom’s growing confusion. “Once, a boy, he, uh… broke Y/N heart,” he trailed, looking for the English words with difficulty. “You know what I did?”

Tom shook his head slowly, replacing confusion for complete nervousness as he waited for your brother to answer his own question, body tense in expectation.

Only Albert did not utter a word, instead drawing his lips into a thin line and coming to apply a slight pressure on Tom’s valid shoulder, resting there for an uncomfortable amount of time. He watched him intensely, conveying what he wanted to say through the light taps on his shoulder and Tom felt his body freeze, feeling the weight of his meaning.

Then he felt the pressure disappear and Albert walked away, returning to his place next to Guilia, leaving a stunned Tom behind.

“What is it again…”

Several hours later, you had reached a crossing, people trampling around in the shade of the trees under the morning sun, disarray radiating from them. Cars were passing by, going in the opposite direction with their engines roaring and you had to dodge two of them in order to let them pass. You all stopped, unwilling to merge with the disorganised crowd.

“Excuse me,” Giulia called out to a slowing black car, approaching the driver. “What is happening?”

“If you’re asking about why people are stopping, it’s because there’s a German post ahead. They have the bridge under their control, alright. I guess all those folks don’t know what to do about it, can’t cross with the river.”

Henriette swore under her breath, rising to look above the heads before her, as if hoping to see the Germans in the distance.

“Where are you coming from?” Giulia continued, looking at the luggage on the back seat of the car.

“Châteauroux, going back home… Turns out, I had a flat tyre and they helped me change it when I went through them,” the driver said, tapping his car door.

“... the German helped you change your tyre?” Albert asked, sceptical.

“They did, indeed,” he answered before driving away, leaving your group behind disconcerted.

“What do we do?” you asked after explaining the situation to Tom.

“I…”

“How are we going to cross the line? I’m not passing through them,” spat Henriette.

“You and Y/N could pass on your own, you’re just going home, right? You have nothing to hide,” remarked Albert. “Even Tom here would pass for a lost lad, just look at him.”

“I’m not leaving you,” you interject, taking your brother’s arm and glancing at Tom with concern.

“It doesn’t work like that… The Germans must be on edge, they’ll be suspicious of anything, without mentioning that he is supposed to be dead,” trailed Giulia deep in thought, looking around like the grapevine fields held the answer she was looking for.

“So what do we do?”

Giulia let Henriette’s question linger in the air for a while before pursing her lips, looking west. “We find a passage point of our own. They can’t be everywhere yet."

And here you were walking again, fatigue starting to seriously eat at your core and the sole of your shoes was starting to wear out, making you regret not bringing a second pair. You passed a nearby village bordering the Cher river that prevented you from going further, a herd of cows half immersed in the water in order to escape the heat. Aside from dogs barking in the distance, all was quiet as you walked up the street, not a soul present outside as if the stony houses and green gardens were deserted. This is why you felt uneasy when you were made self-conscious of the only pair of eyes staring at your group like a hawk, standing in her yard behind a wooden fence with a distrustful icy glare that silently followed your progress. The said woman looked old, cutting out wild branches out of a bush with sharp shears in her hands and stopping when you finally noticed her.

“I’m going to ask her.”

“This is a bad idea, Henriette…” you whispered to your friend, not liking the dark expression the woman bore one bit.

But she didn’t have to ask anything, the harsh voice of the woman suddenly filling the air. “What you lot doing here? You’re not from here.”

You thought it bizarre for someone so close to the line to be surprised by a group of strangers weeks after the first waves of exodus, but you didn’t think too much about it, rather waiting for someone else to speak. Albert was the one who approached her. “No we’re not, we live further south, madame. We just want… We’re looking to cross the river.”

Giulia had her hand over your brother’s arm in a previous attempt to stop him from speaking but now she looked interested in whatever answer the woman would give. The latter froze momentarily before taking a deep annoyed breath, suspicion still adorning her features. When she spoke again, her tone had softened, however. “Hmpf. You’ll want the last house on the right at the end of the road.”

You all looked at each other in puzzlement while Tom eyed the woman curiously. “Merci beaucoup,” bowed your brother in thanks and took Giulia by the arm to lead her in the right direction while you did the same with Tom, thanking the woman silently in turn.

“And not a word!” she called after you roughly with a loud whisper. You looked back at her frightened before resuming your walk.

“She sounds like a lovely lady. Wouldn’t like venturing close to those shears of hers, though,” Tom said as he glanced at her over his shoulder with a mild smirk, your hands curled around his elbow as you led him away. “Care about my limbs too much for that."

“Of course you do,” you said playfully and you sensed his gaze on you again.

“What? You don’t think it would be a loss if I… missed some parts?”

You rolled your eyes as you tried not to blush, but your cheeks turned hot despite your better efforts, the smile on your lips reaching your eyes and Tom let out a soft laugh that made Albert turn with a raised brow. You lowered your gaze to the ground, struggling to keep the sinful thoughts at bay.

The house at the end of the road was more of a farm, two barns at each side of the entrance and as many dogs to welcome you loudly as you passed the gates. At the sound of the agitation, a man who you presumed to be the owner came out of the main building at the opposite side of the yard to call after them, whistling them to heel.

“Who are you? What do you want?” he barked when he reached your group taking great steps, his dogs circling him excitedly. He was mid-aged, strong looking with a bushy beard that hid his neck and you were reminded of the shepherds in your childhood stories.

“We… were directed to this house. We need to cross the river. Sir,” spoke Giulia when she saw the man’s eyes turn into slits. He scrutinised each and every one of you, lingering to observe Albert from head to toe before losing his wary expression as fast as it had come. “Come on, quick.”

You all crossed the courtyard and followed him inside the main building obediently, the dogs behind you now happily sniffing your legs with breathy huffs. Once in a large room with a low ceiling that made Tom duck a little as he entered, the man turned to you all, standing awkwardly and taking in your surroundings with bashful stares.

“Quite the group you have there,” he announced, taking several glasses out of a cupboard and laying them down on the table. “Fruit brandy? Blackberry, homemade.”

You eyed the brown bottle he was agitating in his hand with narrowed eyes before Henriette answered for you, nodding in agreement and the man proceeded to pour a little amount in each glass before beckoning you all to sit around the large table. Only Tom and Giulia stayed up, unwilling to sit on the empty chairs next to the man.

You winced when the thick liquid hit the inside of your throat, burning; but it felt good after the night you had, your head still throbbing a little from your fall. Henriette wore the same mixed expression as you while Tom observed his glass unconvinced before drinking, shaking his head in reaction when he put the glass back down on the table with a thud.

The man then took out cigarettes from his jacket and extended it towards you with raised eyebrows. You refused with a grateful smile while Albert and Tom gladly took one.

“So here’s what’s going to happen," he started as he took a ciggy of his own. "We can’t make you cross in daylight because they’re surveilling the river, so you’re stuck here until nightfall. If a problem comes along, anything at all, you hide in there,” he pointed to an open door on the side, large enough to contain three brooms and a bucket. “You stay quiet, and all will be well. They already searched the house two days ago, so they shouldn’t be back until a while.”

“Merci, Monsieur,” voiced Henriette as she took another sip of her glass while you explained the plan to Tom. “May we know your name?”

“No,” he answered as he flicked a match. “The less you know about me, the better. Remember, do not- ever, talk about the people that help you, it’s too dangerous.”

Giulia nodded in agreement, a rule she already knew while Tom looked at the wooden door with an incredulous look. “We can’t all go in there.”

The man looked up at him with surprise, taking a minute to comprehend that Tom spoke another language altogether. “What did he say?”

“He said that we all won’t fit,” you translated, agreeing with him on that point.

The man stared at Tom for a moment before getting up slowly, walking around the table and coming to stand inches from Tom’s face who didn’t flinch one bit. “Maybe it’s because there is a basement behind that panel, wiseass.”

Tom titled his head back slightly, an unimpressed smile dancing on his lips as he looked back at you. “What was that?”

“Nothing, he just says there is a basement we can hide in beneath it,” you explained standing up instantly in order to softly drag Tom away by the arm, giving a reassuring nod to your host as the others shifted uncomfortably. It seems to suffice because the man regained his chair while Tom took a drag out of his cigarette, looking aloof and wearing a self-sufficient expression.

“Is there a place where we could rest, sir? We… didn’t have much sleep last night.”

He crushed his bud before leading you to your ‘accommodation’ with a waving hand, you and Henriette taking an old looking sofa in an adjacent room while the others are left to sleep comfortably in the barn with blankets. “I warn you, it gets hot in the afternoon,” he announced before leaving them there.

As you close your eyes, trying to find sleep, anxiety claws at your chest at the idea that tonight, you would cross the river with a real risk looming over your group for the first time since you left.

You wake up in the evening, feeling drowsy but a little bit better and only your stressful state from what you will do tonight remains. Outside, the light has started to dim and you can hear frogs croaking in unison in the distance as you move through the house, all of you converging to the dining room where you are offered ham and bread along with some fruit. You eat in apprehensive silence, only broken by curt questions asked by your host like ‘Where are you from’ or ‘What happened in that factory’.

You don’t really participate, lulled by the outside sounds and the soft ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, nightfall arriving at a slow pace. In front of you, Tom doesn’t speak either, his fingers drumming on the wooden table at times, wearing a plain expression as you glance at him through your eyelashes. He looks relaxed, but you know better, know him better; he is as anxious as you are, and you can’t even reach for him to make him feel less alone.

You linger in the kitchen to wash the plates with the help of Henriette while your brother and Giulia disappear somewhere in the house to talk over the plan, the bearded man soon announcing that he has some preparation to make and exits in turn. You haven’t noticed Tom slip out of the room at all in your focused state, so when you are done with the dishes, you wipe your hands on your towel and step outside in order to look for him, not liking him alone.

The dogs are playing in the yard joyfully, unbeknownst to your nerves on edge and you stop to briefly pet them; the licks they give you lifting your spirit a little before going straight for the smaller barn, the door slightly ajar.

He is there, sitting on a haystack with his legs stretched out, a cigarette hanging from his lips as his gaze is fixed on some chickens trotting around, looking for leftovers on the ground. You approach, coming to sit beside him and he acknowledges your presence with what you think is a fleeting satisfied expression before resuming his quiet observation.

“Find anything interesting about farm life, sailor?” you try, examining his profile, the bruises taking a yellow shade there as he puffs out a cloud of smoke.

“I’m wondering how good a fried chicken would taste right now,” he answers solemnly with a nod towards the winged creatures shuffling around. “I bet the old man wouldn’t even notice a missing bird.”

You watch in turn, agreeing with him, but you’re only reminded of how cunning Tom can be, smiling yo yourself. “Old habits die hard, I see.”

He turns his head to you, a glint of amusement playing in his eyes. “You really think I settled to steal birds back home? Didn’t know you had such a low opinion of me.”

“Can’t tell, I never knew what you were up to, really,” you shrug as you grab the smoke between his fingers to bring it to your lips. "And I know for a fact that you love birds."

He watches the movement, endeared by it and how your rosy lips enclose his own cigarette, right there by his side. “Where are the others?”

You take another drag before handing it back to him, pursing your lips. “Henriette is helping out in the kitchen and-”

“Let me guess,” he interrupts, a smirk stretching at the corner of his mouth as his face brightens. “Your brother and my lovely guide are alone together somewhere, discussing like they’re thick as thieves.”

You part your lips in mild surprise, unsettled by his confidence. “How do you know?”

“C’mon,” he hints, making you frown. “I may not speak French, but I have eyes.”

You get lost in your thoughts for a few seconds, reminiscing about the last few days and Tom's words slowly start to make sense in your mind. All of the time he spent with her, his ease when she is near.

“Well… Good for him,” you conclude as a chicken starts rummaging close to your foot.

Tom leans back against the wall again with a musing sound, eyes not leaving you and enjoying how unsettled he had made you. But then a question comes into his mind and he flicks some ashes away, swallowing nervously. “Say… Your brother he… Never got into a fight, did he?”

You glance back at him, a smile gradually tugs at the corner of your lips as you lean backwards, mimicking him. “Whatever he told you, I guarantee he exaggerated,” you laugh softly. “Albert is a kind soul, never got carried away.”

“So he never… beat up someone? Not once? Can happen to everybody.”

You look at the ceiling as you shake your memory, humming in the process. “He may have had some scraps when we were younger, but apart from that… Why do you ask?”

He hesitates, playing with the tip of his fag. “Just… something about you being heartbroken?”

You turn your head to look up at him, brushing his shoulder in the process, his scent like pine trees reaching your senses. His eyes are trained on you, serious now, and you feel something thrum in your chest before you answer. “Ah… That. Albert wanted to do something about it but he only ended up giving him a good scolding. I was young, I thought it was the end of the world but looking back, it was absolutely meaningless,” you comment, turning one of the rings on your finger distractedly. "I don’t think I’ve ever been heartbroken, you know?”

You hear his soft exhale next to your ear as smoke escapes his lips, glimpsing the slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye. Over the silence you search his face, his eyes are transfixed ahead of him and the desire to be able to read his thoughts passes over you. “...Have you?”

His eyes snap at you at that, their soft blue glow making you pause as he answers contemplatively. “No, I don’t think so… Not yet, at least.”

You turn your tongue in your mouth, stopping words from leaving it as you stare back at the chickens, his gaze hot on the side of your face. You’re tempted to look back, to acknowledge what you chose to ignore obstinately, instead conjuring a memory from your childhood home and recounting it to Tom. All of that to brush away the inevitable future, because you knew it would hurt, you just had to make it less painful, some way or another.

He listens to you, speaking about him in turn without complaint and you talk for what seems like hours, reminiscing stories of your childhood you never got to tell each other while in Manchester.

When you come to the subject of Tom’s first serious infraction the chickens are long gone, having run back in their respective coop for the night. Eventually, the conversation fades down, less enthusiastic as dark falls completely outside, a single lamp hanging over an oaken beam your sole source of light. You feel so comfortable next to him, your knees brushing his in the need to compensate for the cool air settling down over your skin with the warmth radiating from his body. But at the sight of the night finally taking over, anguish comes back to nag at you and you still shiver.

“How far is it?” Tom asks softly after a while, no smile discernable in his voice. “Where you’re going?”

“About… 150 km,” you answer with a strained voice, conjuring a mental map. “Maybe two days of walk, give or take…”

“So not very far, then…” he murmurs pensively, and you can’t help but look at him with saddening eyes. He looks so… exhausted.

“We still have time,” you assure, turning fully to him as you feel his anguish reach you, the one you refused to acknowledge earlier. “We have to cross the river, and then-”

“Doesn’t change the fact that in a matter of days we might never see each other again.”

He meets your eyes for a fleeting moment, his blue eyes piercing yours, sombre before they’re gone again, as if looking at you pained him greatly. You feel your breath hitch in your throat, your heart constricting in your chest. You don't want him looking at you like this.

You see the subtle clenching of his jaw and your fingers reach for it, softly bringing his face to look back at you, your chin almost touching his shoulder with the proximity. “Don’t say that. There will be an after, we just have to wait for the better days to come. For the war to be over."

His eyes shut briefly at your touch, and you can feel the way he imperceptibly leans into it. “We might never get there. The Nazis won't stop, England won't surrender in a million years, and somewhere along the way I'll be fighting for the other side, left to hope that you're alright."

Your eyelids feel heavy, fluttering slowly, wondering if the weight of his words have something to do with it. "Nothing will happen to me as nothing will happen to you. You just have to make it to Spain, then start from there."

"You won't even know if I made it, if I ever do, anyway."

“Giulia will get you there, I trust she will. Then we'll both be home, we'll know we're safe. We'll be with our families, with our loved one."

A weak smile cracks over his lips, one of his hands coming to reach over yours resting at the side of his face, your fingers trailing the edge of his jaw, unkempt by days of travel. You get lost in the gesture there, at the feel of it while he rubs his thumb on the inside of your wrist, soft circles of soothing affection.

“Don’t you feel that it won’t be enough?”

His question grazes your skin, uttered so closely and making your eyes shift to his, their blue piercing through your soul like hot coals and you shiver. But inside, you feel warm, a bright glow filling your chest and you are sure its light can reach him, like you’re sharing the same hammering hearts, the same thoughts, meaningful words hanging in the air between you but unable to unhook. It’s almost painful, the ache that wants you closer to him, and when you lower your eyes to his lips there is suddenly no distance anymore, the caress over your inner wrist stopping to grip it softly.

The kiss is full of longing, lips entrapped against each other with carefulness, tender skin against tender skin and it’s overwhelming, right. You’re not sure about what you’re doing but you need it, Tom responding with the gentlest touch he has ever given you and a veil falls over your mind, the necessity to forget about the cold truth of the days to come filling every cell of your body, replaced by this instant. You wonder if he feels the same as you get lost in his, the pain you wanted to avoid out of reach. His tongue dances with yours at a slow pace, wishing time would go as leisurely, his pressure on your wrist binding you both in soft adoration.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you there? Oh-”

You shift instantly at the voice of your brother, his head appearing within the frame of the door just in time for Tom to back away from you in a fluid movement, distancing himself like you’d burned him. Albert wears a gobsmacked expression, glancing between you and Tom while the latter only stares at the ground with his head down. You, for your part, look at him unabashedly, waiting for him to speak, a frustrating feeling of loss coursing through your body.

“It’s time, we need to go,” Albert announces after an uncomfortable silence, and then he is gone, leaving you to look back at Tom still looking downwards, teeth digging into his bottom lip, looking like a teenager caught in the act.

When he meets your gaze, you cannot help the wide smile that spreads across your face. “Don't.”

“I didn’t say anything!” you laugh at Tom’s flustered expression, the shade of his cheeks adorable as you wonder if yours wears the same colour, feeling blissfully happy.

But when you both get up and go for the main house, stress gradually regains your nerves for what is to come.

Part 8

A/N: Thank you @babyblue711 & @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan as always, I won't be able to do much without you.

@chainsawsangel@mischiefmanaged71@depressedperson88@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan@yentroucnagol@tssf-imagines @nightdiamond8663 @lauraneedstochill @unleashthelion @helaenaluvr @omgkatherine01 @launotfound @r0segard3n

#tom bennett #tom bennet x reader #wof #world on fire #tom bennet imagine #smut #tom bennett fanfiction #ewan mitchell #angst #fluff #world on fire 1x01 #gone with regret #usermyfandomprompts

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cetaitlaverite · 16 days

Text

Why All This Music?

Masters of the Air - Rosie Rosenthal x OC

A/N: i'm back!! it's been a while since i've written anything, so i'm both excited and a little bit nervous about all this, but i thought i'd share it all the same. without further adieu, i'm incredibly pleased to introduce you to freddie, the latest of my loves. i hope you'll love her too <3

(the link to the masterlist is here)

01. Hotshot Wireless Operators

The evening was hot, the air was thick, and Freddie was blushing just as much because of the humidity as because of the attention.

She had been back at RAF Thorpe Abbotts for all of a day after her three days of leave and already she was being lorded as a hero. Secretly, she thought the reason for the celebrations was more because of the relief to have something worth celebrating than it was because of her actual achievement, but regardless all of the WAAFs in her section had their dress uniforms on, their hair pressed into pristine curls, and their arms around Freddie’s shoulders as they steered her in the direction of the officers’ club, as though a measly three days back home in Oxford had made her forget.

Warm, excited voices were insistent in her ears, different sets of hands tugging at her jacket or her curls or her hands, vying for her attention. She’d never felt like more of a celebrity.

“- going to be so excited when they hear, Freddie! You’re going to get a promotion to be sure!” one of the girls, Paddy, was exclaiming.

“Then you’ll be a flight officer!” added Amy, sharing a grin with Paddy. “Really, you should be a squadron officer - goodness knows you’re far more qualified than Jones is - but how fancy does ‘Flight Officer Leroy’ sound?”

Freddie shared a look with Millie, close on her left hip as always, and had to look at the grass in front of her so she wouldn’t laugh. The lack of light because of the blackout made it difficult to see anything, much less the dark ground ahead of her, so she focused on what might as well have been the abyss beneath her feet and let the conversation carry on without her.

“If she gets promoted, Freddie’ll be a translator, not a wireless operator anymore, so I don’t suppose she’ll be with us at all, girls,” Millie said as gently as she was able, offering a conciliatory smile to Paddy and Amy.

“But you’ll still be at Thorpe Abbotts, won’t you, Freddie?” questioned a timid voice from the back of the group.

Freddie turned to find Emma, their newest addition, freshly eighteen and conscripted to the role of aircraftwoman second class. She was as shy as they came and made a habit of making herself invisible, but Freddie couldn’t deny her fondness for the newest WAAF in their ranks.

Freddie offered her a tiny smile, hoping it was maybe just a little bit reassuring. “I’ve not heard anything about a promotion at all yet, Emma, so all of this is just conjecture.”

“Are you girls planning on making a night of this walk? Jesus Christ!” called a loud voice from far up ahead, standing in the doorway of the officers’ club. “We said we’d get here for 2000 hours yet you lot have taken damn near half an hour just to walk here!”

Millie laughed, completely unashamed, and called back, “What, have you got somewhere you need to be after this, Jem?”

In spite of her heckling, Millie looped her arm through Freddie’s and picked up the pace, forcing the rest of their group to do the same.

“Honestly,” Jem was tutting when they got within hearing distance. “‘Let’s go out and celebrate!’ you all said, and then the only celebrating you look prepared to do is out on the lawns!”

“Oh, Jem, they’re excited!” Freddie appealed to her with a grin. “Let them be. There’s so little to be excited about these days.”

Jem rolled her eyes affectionately and pushed her way into the midst of the group, taking up her post on Freddie’s right while Millie retained the left.

“Well, we can all be excited inside, can’t we? Where there’s music and beer and fresh meat.” Alongside this last statement she wiggled her eyebrows.

At this, Millie perked right up. “Oh, yeah! I forgot you haven’t met the new crews yet, Fred. They came the day after you went on leave, which is such a shame, because that was also the day Dye made twenty-five. Anyway, we all met them in the officers’ bar and a couple aren’t too sore on the eyes.”

Freddie laughed. “Got your eye on any of them, Mils?”

Millie shot her a wink. “Of course.”

Freddie was still smiling widely when Jem pushed the door to the officers’ club open for them. All at once, a wave of warmth and chatter washed over her, bringing that flush back into her cheeks with full force, especially when Paddy and Amy started to cheer for her again. They had, it seemed, made it their mission to make sure absolutely everyone in the officers’ club knew that there was cause for celebration tonight and that the cause herself was among their ranks.

“Everybody clear away from the bar!” Paddy was calling in that thick Northern Irish drawl of hers - the one which, incidentally, had gifted her her nickname. “We have nothing short of a war hero in tow and we’re expecting a Victoria Cross in the post any day now!”

“Ladies!” called Bucky Egan, rising to his full height from where he’d been leaning on the bar. “There you are. We been missing you!”

“Looking this good takes time, Major,” Millie told him with a conspiratorial pat to his shoulder.

“Not for you, Millie - you wake up looking just like this, I bet,” cut in Benny DeMarco with an easy smirk.

“Think about what I look like when I wake up often, do you, Benny?” Millie wondered around a roll of her eyes and a poorly concealed grin.

“Every second since the moment I met you,” he replied with a wink.

Millie laughed. “Noted, Benny. Noted.”

“So who’s your war hero?” wondered Buck Cleven, leaning back lazily against the bar.

“Yeah,” added Bucky. “And why do we gotta clear the bar for him?”

“For her,” Jem corrected, looking like she was ready to pull up her sleeves and start elbowing her way past them. “Freddie’s our war hero.”

“Or heroine, I suppose,” added Amy.

Freddie was already blushing furiously, but when the eyes of all of the airmen gathered, both those who had engaged in the conversation and those who hadn’t, swivelled to her, expectantly awaiting an explanation of what she’d done to earn her title, her cheeks felt like they were on fire. “It was nothing, really -”

“It was not nothing!” Paddy exclaimed immediately. And with that she leaped into a dramatic retelling. “After a dogfight, a German fighter must’ve gotten himself disoriented. He was flying over England but had convinced himself it was France. When I started receiving him on the radio I had no idea what to do, of course, and I started panicking and damn near started crying because I was so scared. But then Freddie - who, it turns out, speaks perfect German - took the receiver from me and started directing this German fighter in like she does it everyday. Cool and calm as you like, she guides him in, and then the second he’s down we’ve got him caught and captured and his plane is being taken in for analysis and now we have the newest German fighter in our hands to find out how it works.”

Amy was grinning and she leaped in to add, “Say what you like, but our RAF fighters are going to owe a lot to our Freddie when they know how to dogfight these new German Messers because we have one of them.”

“Yeah, well, we’re hoping we’ll know a lot about the German Air Force in general when the brass have finished interrogating the Jerry who fell for the whole charade,” commented Jem with a wry grin.

“Well,” started Bucky, with a wide grin of his own, clapping his hands together, “seems like maybe you really do need a drink, Fred.”

Freddie’s eyes had long since found the floor, embarrassed by the fussing, and only now did she look up to shrug.

“No,” Millie said, pointing a finger at Bucky. “I’m buying her first drink, not you.”

“Millie, you’re so mean to me,” Bucky teased her.

“Go find a corner and cry about it,” Millie replied easily. Turning to Freddie as she started to push through the gathered airmen, she asked, “Beer?”

“Lemonade,” Freddie corrected.

Millie scowled. “No.”

“What do you mean, ‘no’?”

“I mean ‘no’,” Millie answered steadily. “I’m not buying you lemonade.”

“Why not?!”

“You can have beer or you can have wine.”

“I’ll buy it myself, then.”

“Freddie,” Millie said slowly, placing both hands on her shoulders very seriously, “you are not allowed to drink lemonade tonight. Okay? I’m getting you a beer.”

“But I don’t want beer,” Freddie protested, frowning.

“Fred, you can’t drink lemonade,” Bucky re-entered the conversation.

Freddie turned to him with raised eyebrows and arms crossed. “Why not? Buck doesn’t drink!”

“Yeah, and it’s my least favourite thing about him,” Bucky countered.

“John, leave her alone -” Buck attempted to chastise him.

Millie gave Freddie a meaningful look before she turned away from her and pushed through the crowd to make a space for herself at the bar.

“I just want lemonade,” Freddie muttered, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Freddie, tell me you’re not trying to drink lemonade again,” Jem cut in.

Freddie threw her hands up in exasperation. “What’s wrong with lemonade?!”

“You’re practically a war hero, Freddie - you have to drink beer! That’s what all the hotshot pilots drink when they come back from some flash mission -”

Bucky cut right across Paddy, “That’s what all of us ‘hotshot pilots’ drink all the time, Paddy.”

Freddie turned to them both with her chin tilted up. “Well, I am not a hotshot pilot.”

“Just a hotshot wireless operator, right, Fred?” Bucky teased.

“Exactly,” Freddie agreed. “And hotshot wireless operators drink lemonade.”

“No, we don’t,” Jem laughed.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” spoke a voice from behind Freddie. It wasn’t a voice she recognised, and she liked to think with all of her accumulated experience talking to both the pilots and the radio operators over the radio to get them safely out of the base and then back again she recognised voices rather well.

Turning, she found a pair of earnest blue eyes and a shy smile tilted above a well-groomed moustache and a proffered glass.

“Hi,” Freddie greeted softly in what was almost a chirp.

“Hi,” the man - one of the new pilots, by the looks of his insignia - replied. He shook his head a little bit, as though to clear it. “I hope you don’t mind, ma’am, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation and I thought - well, here’s your lemonade.” He offered the glass to her again.

He was handsome, this pilot who had bought her lemonade when no one else would. Not necessarily handsome in a film star, striking way, but in a gentle, endearing way. The kind of handsome which made her heart flutter instead of stop - which was quite lovely, really, because a lot of things made her heart stop these days and none of them were good.

“Oh,” Freddie mumbled, accepting the glass of lemonade from him. It was icy cold to the touch but his fingers were warm where they grazed lightly against hers. “Thank you,” she told him.

He smiled again and her breath got a little bit stuck in her throat. “Nothing at all, ma’am.”

She wasn’t sure what to say next, didn’t want him to leave but didn’t want to force him to stay. But when he inclined his head in farewell first to her, then presumably to Buck and Bucky still stood leaning against the bar beside her, she was so desperate to get him to linger, even if just for a few more words, that she blurted, “I’m Freddie.” Her voice came out sounding high pitched and girlish to her own ears. She wanted so badly to grasp at the air and shove the words back into her mouth that she might even have given it a try if he hadn’t smiled at her again.

“Nice to meet you, Freddie,” he answered her. “I’m Rosie.”

“Rosie,” she repeated with a shy sort of smile. “That’s a sweet name.”

Rosie smiled wider. She had dimples. “Thank you, ma’am. Comes from my last name - Rosenthal.”

Freddie nodded, stuck on his smile. “You don’t have to call me ‘ma’am’,” she replied after a beat in which she realised she was probably supposed to be speaking. “Just Freddie is fine. That’s how everyone knows me.”

“Alright,” Rosie conceded. “Freddie it is.”

Freddie couldn’t seem to look away from his eyes. She was sure she’d never seen eyes so blue. Even in the warm, low lighting of the officers’ bar they were somehow still glowing, bright and kind and alive.

“So, uh,” Rosie started, with a certain degree of awkwardness.

Freddie forced her eyes away from his, conscious she must have been staring.

“They said you were on leave?” Rosie finished, fiddling with the pint of beer in his hand.

“Yes,” Freddie confirmed, fiddling with the straw in her drink to give herself something to focus on other than the beautiful, striking blue of the pair of eyes currently awaiting her answer. “I went home for three days, to Oxford.”

“That must’ve been nice,” he replied. He hated how he suddenly had so very little to say. She must have thought he was so, so boring.

Freddie couldn’t help it. She giggled at the awkwardness.

“Yes,” she replied again. “Yes, it was wonderful. Strange to be home, to be sure - I haven’t visited since Christmas - but it was especially lovely to see my dogs again. I don’t get any letters from them, see.”

Rosie chuckled lightly, nodding along with her, relieved at the release of the uncertainty. “Right,” he said. “They’re not big on writing letters, then?”

“They’re dogs of few words,” Freddie agreed with a grin.

“How many do you have?” he questioned next.

“Dogs?” Freddie wondered. “Two. The big one’s Bruno and the little one’s Earnie, both boys. A German Shepherd and a Westie.”

“What are they like?”

Freddie’s eyes glinted. “Trouble.” She loved talking about her dogs.

“I always wanted a dog,” Rosie confided in her, tilting his head to the side and slightly down to let him meet her eyes more easily. Well, more easily for him; the increased eye contact was tortuous for her. “But where I’m from, in Brooklyn, we always lived in an apartment. No pets allowed.”

Freddie gasped. “That’s tragic.”

Rosie grinned. “I know. Someone oughta fix that rule.”

She sipped on her lemonade, nodding, contemplating. Instinctively, her eyes found the floor.

Rosie watched her, tapping his fingers against his glass of beer.

He opened his mouth to say something more - desperate to say something, anything, really, that might get her to smile again. Those dimples of hers - if he hadn’t signed up to go to war already he knew he would’ve enlisted just on their behalf.

But whatever he was about to say never made it out. It was for the best, probably, since he couldn’t guarantee it wouldn’t have been something incredibly forward, some grand statement about her startling prettiness which she was bound to have heard a million times before. Instead, he was swiftly cut off by Millie, returning from the bar with a pint of beer in each hand. “Fred, I got your beer, and you are going to like it, god damn it, even if I have to pour it down your throat myself.”

Freddie flushed and turned to Millie, conscious of Rosie’s eyes on her profile, and watched as realisation dawned on her best friend’s face. “Oh.”

“I have lemonade,” Freddie said. She wanted to punch herself in the face for that one. All that progress she’d made in proving herself decidedly not a weirdo and she was right back where she started.

Millie laughed, her eyes flicking between Freddie and Rosie. “Is that right? And who do I have to blame for it?”

“That would be me, ma’am,” Rosie answered, and Freddie noticed a glint in his eye.

“Rosie,” Millie replied with a tut, proving Freddie’s assumption correct that the two had already met. “Now why would you do that? You’ll only encourage her!”

Rosie shook his head with a light little laugh and Freddie’s chest deflated. “Got your eye on any of them, Mils?” she recalled herself saying not thirty minutes before. And Millie had replied, “Of course.” And why wouldn’t she have her eye on him? Why shouldn’t she? If Millie deserved anything in her life it was a Rosie. True, Freddie didn’t know him all that well, but that earnestness in his eyes, that uncertainty with which he’d approached her just to do something kind, told her everything she needed to know about the type of man he was. A type of man worthy of her Millie.

In front of her, the jovial conversation between Rosie and Millie raged on. “I just figured,” Rosie was saying, explaining why he had bought Freddie’s lemonade, “war heroes should get to choose what they have to drink, otherwise what’s the point of being one?”

Millie laughed along with Rosie’s joke and Freddie’s eyes sought Benny. “Benny,” she started, quiet, and that was all she needed to say.

“Over in that corner,” Benny told her with a kind but secret smile, inclining his head towards a darkened corner with an unoccupied table close to the wall and a Siberian Husky lying quietly beneath one of the chairs.

Freddie let out all of her breath and gave him a smile. “Thank you,” she told him quietly, and slipped away while Millie and Rosie were still joking about whatever it was they were joking about.

Freddie found refuge with Benny’s dog, Meatball, often when she felt overwhelmed. Meatball was a nice mix of her two dogs back home in having the pale coat of her West Highland White Terrier and the large stature of her German Shepherd and he always served to make her feel a little bit more settled when the world felt just a little bit too unstable. He always accepted her kindly and with little fuss, too. Perhaps he was used to her by now or perhaps he simply appreciated her attention when those who would usually give it to him were off dancing or searching for dance partners or engaging in all kinds of drunken revelry.

Freddie forwent sitting atop the chair Meatball had claimed as his shelter and instead sat beside him on the floor. The table and chairs were pristine and untouched; she figured the last time human feet had ventured to this part of the room was when the cleaner had passed through earlier.

“I’m feeling overwhelmed again,” she confessed to Meatball, fingers curling gently into the hair around his scruff.

Meatball spared her a quick glance before resting his head in her lap. Freddie smiled softly and stroked over his head.

��Thanks for letting me share your little corner,” she added. A place she felt she better belonged. Better to take refuge in dark corners and let the others have a chance, she told herself. She’d already had hers, no matter that she’d lost it.

Freddie didn’t realise she had an audience. Over by the bar, several pairs of eyes had watched her go and were now watching her fuss over Meatball.

Rosie’s eyes sought Millie’s and she smiled sadly, shaking her head. “It wasn’t anything you said,” she reassured him. “Or anything you did. You just need to be patient with our Fred.”

“She’s not one for romance, is all,” Bucky put in, halfway through turning back to the bar to order another beer. “Wouldn’t take it personal if I was you, Rosie.”

Jem scoffed, loud and outraged and all but infuriated. “She is one for romance. What a thing to say!” When Bucky didn’t turn back to her, she grabbed him by the lapel and forced him to. “It’s not my place to say why she is the way she is but maybe you’d know if you hadn’t been so dismissive the first time she turned you down for a dance.”

“She turns down everyone for a dance,” Bucky dismissed Jem. “I, for one, ain’t losing sleep over it.”

Jem stared at him coldly and Millie let out a sigh. “Sometimes,” Millie said, and all of a sudden she sounded exhausted, “you Americans would do well to remember there was a war going on before you entered it.”

“And what the fuck’s that supposed to mean, Mils?” Bucky demanded.

Millie turned cool, bored eyes on him. “You’re a smart guy, Bucky. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” With that, she crossed the room to Freddie, both beers still in hand, and sat down on the floor beside her. Wordlessly, she commenced sipping at each beer in turn and listened to whatever it was Freddie had to say, while the rest of the group turned back to each other and tried to talk about something else.

#my writing #watm #mota #masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #rosie rosenthal x oc #masters of the air x oc #masters of the air fanfic #masters of the air fanfiction

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redisaid · 4 months

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Learning by Doing

Uh, hi there. You guys voted for me to do bonus smut months ago and I forgot about it. Then I remembered and now we're here. Bon appetite. Have some very late pre-Third War elf love hotel sex magic fluff smut.

4709 Words

Read it on Ao3!

“This is a sex hotel,” Jaina observed, her hand still lingering on the ornate doorknob of the bedchamber of what was to be their private villa for the week.

“It’s a sex resort,” Sylvanas corrected, the buckles of their bags still slung over her shoulder jingling as she stepped behind Jaina to be greeted by the same view she was taking in. “There’s a hot spring, massage parlor, restaurant. You know, all of those sort of things.”

The view in question was of a massive bed, bigger than any Jaina had seen before, which dominated the otherwise warm and tidy room on the second floor of their own little spire. Unlike the sitting room across the way, which was completely lined with these, this room had only one large window facing a sea view, conveniently far from the bed. There was a doorway opposite it, no doubt leading to a bathroom. None of these things, however, gave away the purpose of the room.

No, that would be the arched alcove above the bed, inset with glass shelves, underlit by tiny magelights. From left to right, an assortment of bedroom accessories unlike Jaina had ever seen were on display, from more aggressively obvious ones such as a selection of dildos and restraints and paddles, to things she had to guess at the purpose of, like that rack of colorful potions in intricate little glass bottles.

And while Jaina would say that she didn’t necessarily dislike surprises, she was quite certain that this was not the destination she’d have guessed, or had any way of guessing, when her girlfriend had posed the idea of taking her on a surprise vacation. In fact, she had assumed and planned for much the opposite.

“You ass,” she said to the girlfriend in question, turning to find the Ranger General of Quel’thalas herself grinning and holding one hand up in some sort of apology.

“If you don’t want to be in a sex resort, then we can go,” Sylvanas offered. “Or we can just enjoy the spa activities and take this time to relax.”

“I packed for the outdoors. Hiking, hunting, fishing,” Jaina explained her offense. “Things one assumes their ranger paramour will take them to when they’re thinking of surprise vacation destinations.”

“You had talked about wanting to spend more quality time together,” Sylvanas retorted, her free hand still in the air, but shoulders shrugging regardless. The buckles on their bags jingled again. “And since you did so while you were about to pass out on my chest last time we--”

“I meant in general. And yes I talked about it in bed, and yes I enjoyed myself very much that night, but this was just not what I expected. I packed trousers and a sturdy jacket, not robes and negligees,” Jaina went on.

“Luckily, for this type of vacation, you don’t really need clothes,” Sylvanas noted, grin widening to the point of growing lopsided, the white of her fangs on full display.

How could Jaina stay annoyed at a face like that? The stern mask of the Ranger General had been gone before they’d even landed on the beach of this island resort, replaced by the goofy grins and cocky smirks of the woman few knew Sylvanas Windrunner to be. But Jaina got to see her, in bits and pieces like this, and regardless of the venue, would have enjoyed having a week of her to herself. She had to admit that doing so in a luxurious beachside private villa sounded much more pleasant than doing so in the mud of the forest floor.

“I can hear the gears grinding in your head,” Sylvanas noted. “So, out with those thoughts. Are we staying?”

Jaina leaned over to kiss her on the cheek. “Put the bags down, you unbelievable ass.”

A quick tour of the room told Jaina several things. One was that the large bed was both soft and firm at the same time, and the coverings that adorned it were a fine, soft linen. The connected bathroom was bigger than she expected, with a large soaking tub that faced a window overlooking the sea that would definitely see use later. It housed a collection of towels unlike any Jaina had seen before, but one she already found herself being grateful for. And as one might expect from a resort in the north sea, so near the Isle of Quel’danas itself, the entire place was buzzing with magic, absolutely alight with arcane energy. From the magelights that gave the rooms a soft and inviting glow, and could be brightened or dimmed with a mere word, to that rack of potions that still captivated Jaina, some aglow with that very magical energy.

Even her elven girlfriend seemed extra charged with arcane here, as Jaina exited the bathroom to find her sinking into the bed, eyes closed and limbs akimbo, seemingly testing the comfort of it.

Jaina took that opportunity to kick off her much too outdoorsy boots and climb atop her to explain herself. “I’m not mad,” she noted with a brief kiss on the bridge of Sylvanas’ nose. “Just surprised.”

“That’s the point of it being a surprise,” Sylvanas laughed beneath her, opening her glowing grey eyes to reveal that yes, the blue arcane sheen of them was a somewhat brighter shade here, somehow. “But I take it from the fact that you’re on top of me that it isn’t a bad one?”

“No. I think I can make the best of it,” Jaina told her with another kiss, this time aimed at the corner of her mouth. “Thank you for booking it.”

“You’re most welcome,” Sylvanas said with another laugh. “And if you’d like to take a moment before we start the festivities, there’s snacks and champagne in the kitchen.”

“We’re in a sex resort, Sylvanas,” Jaina noted, this time kissing the other corner of that devious little mouth, which had curled upward into a smirk. “You didn’t bring me here to eat snacks.”

“I suppose I didn’t,” Sylvanas answered, pulling her into a proper kiss.

Teasing the sharp tip of fang with her tongue, Jaina wondered at how they’d ended up here, or together at all. A chance meeting in Dalaran had seen her befriending Sylvanas not long ago, introduced to her in a hurry at a restaurant by her younger sister and Jaina’s friend Vereesa. The defender of the high home of the elves herself then was suddenly full of excuses to come back to Dalaran after that, excuses that eventually led her to the bedchamber of the Kirin Tor’s newest agent not long after that. And now to celebrate the first year of their relationship, they were sinking into the bed of what was apparently a sex resort.

And Jaina didn’t mind it at all. This, she decided firmly, was much better than camping in the woods.

“What do the potions do?” was Jaina’s immediate question upon breaking that lingering kiss.

Sylvanas laughed beneath her, wrapping an arm around her waist to hold Jaina in place through her laughter. “I saw you eyeing them. That’s the first place you want to go?”

“I can sense the magic in them,” Jaina told her. “And frankly have never encountered magic geared toward sex before. Call it an academic interest.”

“Always academic with you,” Sylvanas teased, plainly ignoring the request to fiddle with the buttons of Jaina’s sensible cotton button up she’d worn expecting a day filled with a different kind of physical activity.

The labels on the bottles were no help. Though Jaina could read the Thalassian script with ease, the names on them meant nothing to her. Serpent’s Kiss? Leviathan’s Hunger? Cloud Nine? Even in a place as nice as this, the names might as well have been the same as some cheap love potion sold on the docks in Boralus to lonely and ignorant sailors. Jaina could only hope these weren’t just tinctures of low quality rum and lavender, not that she had any idea what was in those dockside love potions, not at all.

“You’re avoiding my question. And here I got the impression that you once frequented this place. At least you seemed to be very familiar with the way to this villa of ours,” Jaina noted.

“I’m just good with directions,” Sylvanas misdirected, freeing the first and second buttons from their hold on Jaina’s blouse.

“The receptionist said, ‘Welcome back General Windrunner’,” Jaina pointed out, taking her gaze from the potions to grab Sylvanas’ hand and stop her quest to rid her of that sensible cotton shirt.

“I may have frequented this place with other guests in different times,” Sylvanas acquiesced. “But I especially thought you might enjoy it, and must confess I’ve wanted to take you here for some time now.”

“So what do the potions do?” Jaina pressed, and slid Sylvanas’ hand into her partially open shirt in appreciation for that honesty.

“There are a lot of them,” Sylvanas noted, the warmth of her fingers tracing upon Jaina’s clavicle as she leaned back to look up at the rack of glowing colors. “Where to start?”

“Surely you have a favorite?” Jaina asked.

The wicked smile that lit up Sylvanas’ face told her she did. “I didn’t think we’d talk about the potions right away. I was planning on saving that for a little later in the trip, but you did ask.”

“In the interest of furthering my arcane studies, I think that I must insist, Ranger General,” Jaina demanded, propping herself up into a sitting position to cross her arms while still straddling the elf beneath her.

“Then let us not leave you uneducated any longer, my lovely Kirin Tor Agent,” Sylvanas said as she sat up with Jaina, balancing her in her lap, but also turning to pluck a potion off the rack in a flair of dexterous grace.

Sometimes, it was worth it to have a lover who was a devious little ranger at heart.

Said potion was Serpent’s Kiss itself, a glowing teal mixture in a vial shaped like a snake curled around a tree branch. A display of glass artistry that was worthy of something far more grand than a sex potion, but Jaina had to remind herself that this was Quel’thalas she was in. Everything was beautifully crafted and ornate, and if anyone would make pretty vials for their magic sex potions, it would be the elves.

Jaina decided then that she rather liked dating an elf. Well, she’d decided that many times before in this relationship--once for the access to new artisanal cheeses alone that came along with her visits to Quel’thalas--but decided again.

Sylvanas swirled the vial for her, still grinning like a cat that caught the canary as the contents glowed brighter for her efforts, and whirled in a storm of arcane sparkle.

“Let me preface this by saying that we do not have to make use of this, though I think you’ll enjoy it too. I shall tell you that for one, I drink it, and the effects last for four hours, or until I drink another potion that will reverse any of these, that clear one over there by the towels. As for the effect itself, that is best left to be learned by observation, if you’d like,” she offered.

“Then drink it,” Jaina challenged, finding an eager grin making its way to her own face. “And let me not linger waiting on another surprise.”

“Clothes off first,” Sylvanas said, and reached for those buttons again with the hand not holding the vial.

The bottle of glowing blue-green liquid was nearly lost three times in the process of their undressing. Jaina caught it the first time it slipped from Sylvanas’ hands as she pulled her sleeveless shirt over her head. Sylvanas took it from Jaina the second time and nearly dropped it in helping her shimmy out of her leggings. Her solution to this was to hold it in her mouth, but her fangs proved unwieldy to the point where she had to catch it again in the process of removing Jaina’s bra.

All in all, Jaina was almost laughing too much to be as turned on as she was by the time they were naked.

It was always like this with Sylvanas. The other lovers of her youth had been so serious in the bedroom. Sylvanas rarely was. She was serious everywhere else, a stern and hard woman who was difficult to please in the training grounds and apparently impossible to defeat on the battlefield. But in the bedroom, alone with Jaina, she laughed. She grinned. She smirked and whispered wicked things and terrible jokes in the same breath to the point where Jaina didn’t know whether to sigh in pleasure or in disgust at her lover’s abysmal sense of humor.

But she sighed all the same, and loved her more for it.

Sylvanas gave the vial one more shake, exciting another surge of arcane glow from it before she popped the cork and downed the contents. “Again, there’s no pressure to do anything you don’t want to,” she stated as she took a deep breath after swallowing. “But I think you’ll have fun with this.”

This didn’t seem to be anything. Jaina wasn’t really sure why she had to watch a demonstration of this potion, though she hardly complained about looking at her lover’s body. Sylvanas with lithe and fit, with an archer’s broad shoulders, and muscles that formed a V shape from her abdomen pointing downward to…something new. A glowing teal appendage that was most certainly not there a moment ago, erect and ready.

“You have a dick,” Jaina noted most astutely.

“Excellent observation,” Sylvanas said with another laugh.

“Then what are all the dildos for?” Jaina asked, puzzling for herself as she scooted toward Sylvanas.

“Their own kind of fun,” Sylvanas answered. “Different from this.”

“Different how?” Jaina asked.

An answer came to mind in the set of Sylvanas’ lips and the way her tongue ran across them. An answer, like many, that was best found in observation. The construct between Sylvanas’ legs was warm to Jaina’s touch, as she wrapped an exploratory hand around it, and found that it had a pleasant texture in addition to the temperature. Not exactly like skin, but still soft, and hard where it needed to be. Buzzing with arcane in a way that was pleasant to her magically inclined senses, almost as if alight with a faint electric hum.

And the fact that Sylvanas let out a little grunt as she circled her thumb around the head of it told her what she needed to know. “You can feel it?” Jaina asked anyway.

“I can feel that that feels very nice,” Sylvanas told her.

A thousand questions sprang to mind. How did this work? What combinations of enchantments did that potion contain? How were they balanced so perfectly? And who in all of Azeroth had the time to figure that out?

Whoever it was, Jaina was most grateful for their work. Another stroke wrung a low moan from Sylvanas’ throat, and she decided that she was extremely grateful.

But she had one question lingering on her mind, far more pressing than the others. “Can you come with this?” Jaina asked.

“If you keep doing that, I just might,” Sylvanas warned, gently reaching for Jaina’s hand to still it where it gripped the arcane cock. “And to prevent you from asking the question I know will follow this one, yes, there is a result of sorts from that. I’m told it’s quite pleasant for a magic user, as it is arcane in nature. For that reason too, it leaves little in the way of mess to clean up. Very convenient.”

“One more question, I promise,” Jaina ventured, letting go to bring Sylvanas’ face to hers and draw her in for a kiss. “Me on top, or you?” she asked against her lips.

Sylvanas’ answer came in the form of further observation, and she sank into that offered kiss, and used it to distract Jaina from the tight hold she took of her waist, flipping her down onto the mattress in the process.

While the circumstances and venues in which that had happened before were different, Jaina enjoyed them all, but perhaps was most excited for this one. She was just as happy to be on top, of course, but being underneath Sylvanas was always a good time. Even better now if she could enjoy it at the same time.

They’d used their share of toys in the past, and those were fun. Not as fun as this, or the sigh Sylvanas let out as the construct rubbed against Jaina’s thigh.

She kept one arm around Jaina, holding her close, and braced herself up on her elbow. And for a moment, she just looked at her, smiling.

“What?” Jaina asked.

“I think this is going to be a wonderful vacation, that’s all,” Sylvanas told her before kissing her again.

And despite the stiff insistence poking at Jaina’s leg, she kept kissing her. Along her neck and jaw, dragging the points of her fangs over the rounded shell of Jaina’s ear. Peppering her collar bones with little red marks.

Jaina, for her part, was more than ready to experiment with this new magic and learn by doing, but she allowed this teasing. She encouraged it, actually, running her nails across the broad plane of Sylvanas’ upper back, kissing along her long, pointed ears. She enjoyed the softness of her too, not just her hard elven angles, but the plush skin of her thighs, her breasts, the tender spot just below her jaw that always made her hiss when Jaina sucked on it a little.

There was a reason she put up with this haughty, off elf of hers after all. Not only did Jaina love her, but she loved loving her. She was, in fact, very glad to be in a place dedicated to that act, and with a week to continue exploring exactly what all these potions did.

Though this one, she thought, would probably be a favorite of hers as well.

Jaina knew for certain it would when she reached down between them and ran a hand over the stiff length again, feeling Sylvanas go tense at her touch.

“Inside,” was Jaina’s breathless command, and one that she guided Sylvanas to follow.

The sensation was both familiar and strange. The sense of fullness and warmth and the familiar aching stretch were there, of course. But with them was a jolt of arcane energy that at first made Jaina want to jump, but then settled into a pleasant hum that flowed through her body. She felt like a harp string plucked, made to play a pretty note, only hers came out as a shuddering breath.

Sylvanas too, seemed lost in the sensation, entering her slowly and fully, then stilling for a moment. She gave one tentative roll of her hips, then another, before letting out a moan that transformed into a sentence, “Gods Jaina. You feel amazing. I should have taken you here earlier.”

“Please tell me that we can get more of this potion to go,” Jaina mumbled as Sylvanas moved inside of her again, slow and deliberate.

“I’ll buy us a case,” she promised as she hilted herself.

Sex of this sort was good. Jaina liked any form of penetration, really, but seeing her lover so clearly enjoying her for it was something else. Even the men she’d been with before weren’t so reverent in fucking her as Sylvanas was. Each cant of her hips drew a new sound from her Jaina had never heard before. A new whispered praise. A new prayer to gods both foreign and familiar. And for her part, Jaina couldn’t get enough of it. The cock, the compliments, the building of a too quick crescendo, roiling her abdomen as Sylvanas fucked her.

She managed to open eyes that had long since screwed shut to look down between them, both amused and aroused by watching the arcane glow sink in and out of her.

“This is incredible. You’re incredible,” Jaina told Sylvanas.

Sylvanas seemed determined to keep this slow rhythm, hardly changing her pace even as she hefted Jaina up a bit with the arm beneath her, changing the angle just a bit. But gods what a welcome change it was, as each slow grind of her hips gave Jaina some extra friction against her clit now. Sylvanas seemed to realize this, and thrust deeper in, hardly pulling herself out at all, in order to keep the pressure up.

“That’s…” Jaina didn’t have to say it. They both knew. They could both feel it now. Her in the way she tightened around the construct, and in the way Sylvanas’ rhythm began to falter.

But that brought another incessant question out from Jaina’s lips, one that needed immediate answering, because she wasn’t ready for this to be over. “Does it stay hard if you come?”

“Mmm, yes. But just for asking that, I will make sure you come first,” Sylvanas warned through panting breaths.

It was a threat Jaina was fine being on the receiving end of. One she didn’t really have much hope of countering either. Her body was on a determined course, and there was little that could change it at this point. Even as Sylvanas slipped down from her elbow, her full weight resting now on Jaina, it only made it better. Her hot breath in Jaina’s ear, Jaina’s lips and teeth on her neck.

Jaina felt her body seize and clench and gods was it good. Back arched, mouth open, and Sylvanas buried as deep as she could go inside of her, she came hard. Hard enough that she was sure the hand not fisted in the sheets left a trail of angry red against Sylvanas’ back, doubly so as the elf’s hips lost their rhythm and thrust fast and wild into her.

That was soon followed by a rush of warmth that filled her, both literally and figuratively. A liquid of sorts imparted a wave of energy across Jaina, tingling her from her toes to the crown of her head. She felt as though the ends of her golden hair might spark alight with arcane. And that she might just come again for the sensation of having made Sylvanas spend herself within her, magical as it was otherwise.

“Fuck,” was all she could say to express any of that as Sylvanas went limp atop her, save for the smile that curved in the lips against Jaina’s cheek.

They caught their breath together until Jaina had recovered enough to seek Sylvanas’ lips for a kiss. “You should have brought me here earlier,” she told her as she pulled away.

“I knew you’d like it here,” Sylvanas hummed back at her, cocky even as she enjoyed the afterglow, eyes closed, head nestling atop Jaina’s chest.

But Jaina was invigorated, nerves set newly alight by that surge of arcane. And the delight of discovery, of course. Sex magic, who would have known? The elves. Of course the elves.

A tentative roll of her hips told Jaina that yes, Sylvanas was still indeed hard, still inside her, and still quite sensitive from the little moan she let out.

But Jaina wasn’t quite done with her experimenting, or with her questions. And she also very much wanted Sylvanas to come inside her again, if it felt like that every time. How was this place not crawling with eager mages? Well, maybe she didn’t see many on their way in because they were busy in their own rooms. No wonder.

It was her turn to flip them over, cautiously. And while Sylvanas did slip out in the process, Jaina sat right back down on the construct as soon as she was atop her lover, eliciting yet another almost pained groan.

“So what do the others do?” Jaina asked as she began to roll her own hips.

“Insatiable,” Sylvanas scolded, even as her hands went to Jaina’s thighs to guide the movement.

“I like this one, but I want to know all of my options,” Jaina told her.

“I meant the fact that you’re already going for round two, but you’re insatiable in both regards,” Sylvanas scolded.

“You make an adorable face when we’re doing this, do you know that?” Jaina asked.

Said adorable face was highlighted by a pair of wide grey-blue eyes, pupil dilated enough that Jaina could see it beneath the arcane overglow even. Long brows furrowed against the sensation that must have been amazing, even if Sylvanas had experienced it before. Jaina noted that she’d have to ask her later if these elixirs would work on a human, because they would definitely be trying the reverse if so. But most tempting was a fan of silvery blonde hair that spread beneath her, one that Jaina couldn’t help but tuck behind a long ear as she rode her.

“Tell me what the other potions do. Let’s see how many we can get through before you come again,” Jaina challenged.

“You’re going to be the death of me before this week is through,” Sylvanas grunted, but began to meet her thrusts with her own all the same.

“Don’t make it zero now, that’s no fun,” Jaina teased, running her hand down from Sylvanas’ face to her breast, and eliciting another gasp from her for it.

“The red and blue are temperature play. Red makes you a little hotter, blue a little colder. They’re topical, not for drinking,” Sylvanas explained.

This was addicting. The rhythm of their meeting hips, the way Sylvanas’ face betrayed her pleasure every time Jaina took her fully inside. And the way she felt in there, hard and soft and buzzing arcane. Jaina could see now why the elves would be addicted to magic. Anyone would be if it came like this.

“The cold one sounds interesting,” Jaina noted.

“It’s awful. The warm one though, I do quite enjoy,” Sylvanas told her.

Jaina wanted to make a quip about elves and their love of all things hot, but Sylvanas thrust up in a way that brushed a spot inside her that made her buck unbidden, and she lost the words she was looking for.

“Purple…makes you float,” Sylvanas informed her, though her glowing eyes had shut once again, and could hardly see the color she was identifying.

Her hands gripped Jaina’s thighs, holding on for dear life. Holding her in place too, so that she kept hitting that spot. Holding her so that Jaina could barely get out a chiding, “That’s only three, love.”

“Orange gives,” a moan, a breath, a pant, a mumbled curse. “Mirror image spell.”

Jaina had to give in then, falling atop her lover to kiss the beads of sweat forming on her brow. Gods this feeling, this closeness, this symphony of magic and pleasure. She was going to have a hard time wanting to do anything else but this for the rest of the week.

“One more,” Jaina pleaded. “One more before you come inside me again.”

“Green,” was the only word Sylvanas got out before she did, in fact, come again.

The arcane rush and frantic thrusts that followed sent Jaina to her own soaring heights again too. One intense orgasm so quickly after the other was enough to leave her dizzy and limp, draped over Sylvanas for her efforts, sated but not, awakened to a new world which required much more exploring, but perhaps in need of a few moments rest before she could continue. A few moments she intended to enjoy being held and feeling full and loved.

“Green,” Sylvanas started again, but couldn’t catch her breath to finish.

“I don’t care about green. Green can wait,” Jaina mumbled into Sylvanas’ hair. “I love you and I love this. I want to do this until I’m too sore.”

“There’s a potion for that too,” Sylvanas informed her.

“I think I love it here,” Jaina observed, though it was up to her girlfriend to determine if that comment was about the sex resort, or riding out their arcane-tinged afterglow in her arms.

It was both, truthfully.

#sylvanas windrunner #jaina proudmoore #sylvaina #fanfic #smut #when you bring your nerd girlfriend to a sex resort and she gets off on trying to figure out the sex magic #much of this can be blamed on one person who knows who they are #yeah you

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